Draco Malfoy and the Lightning Scarred Wizard
by thatcutellamachan
Summary: Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter start to gain feelings for each other, right when they shouldn't.  As the war escalated and Voldemort grows in power, the two struggle, fail, and retain equilibrium.  Mpreg.
1. Chapter 1

** THANKS, stupid website, for making me wait two days for this. Grr. Anyways, to christen my new boredom, I am publishing my old stories. This one is about two years old.**

** It should be updated very regularly, considering 200 pages have been written.**

** Easy on flames, I shall only tolerate them to boost my review count, but otherwise they will make me very sad.**

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><p><em><span>Draco Malfoy and the Lightning Scarred Wizard<span>_

PART ONE

It was the fourth of March. Draco Malfoy was fifteen. It was the kind of day someone never forgets; especially someone with a penchant for holding grudges. That day marked the beginning of the worst period of his life, when everything around him came crashing down and everyone he knew turned their back. Except one person who he had never expected and did not want to care for him. The fourth of March marked the darkest, foulest, most wretched period of his life.

It was the day Harry Potter kissed him.

Potter ran away after, confused by even his own action, leaving Draco by the broom shed, holding two school brooms and a battered Snitch in his hands. Draco wanted to call out for him to stop, but he didn't. He wiped the kiss from his face, put back the things back in the shed, and tried to forget the exhilaration of the flight, the challenge of the Seeker's duel, the pure joy on Harry Potter's face as his hands closed on the Snitch first and the smile he still wore as he pulled Draco close him, a smile which faded to confusion.

After Harry Potter kissed him it was as though Draco saw him everywhere. Whenever he walked through the halls at some point their paths would cross, and even sometimes when Draco was sitting alone by a window like he always did, reading, chills would crawl up his back and he'd stare into the empty air, certain that Harry Potter was there even if he couldn't see him. Paranoid and not knowing why, it was Draco who talked first.

He waited in the Owlery. Draco first sent a letter to his father, who he'd had a long correspondence with after the mass breakout from Azkaban, and then stayed there. Harry Potter sent enough letters only to be rivaled by a homesick first year, and he was in the Owlery just a moment after Draco arrived. Perhaps the letters were top secret, of epic, non-Voldemort-related-because-Voldemort-is-dead, importance, because Harry Potter stuffed them immediately into his pocket when he saw Draco there.

"It's perfectly legal to come to the Owlery on a Saturday," Harry Potter said, "Or did the toad make another law to prevent it?"

"You know why I'm bloody here, stop pretending." Draco hissed, "If you think you can just snog me and then spy on me for days on end without any retaliation than you are incredibly thick."

Harry Potter took a step back, stuttering, "I... I didn't snog you."

Draco took a few steps forward, closing their distance, "Then why, Potter, did you run away and leave me to pick up after our Seeker's Duel?"

"You..." Harry Potter took another step back and his back touched the owl roosts. One ornery owl, having woken up, pecked Harry and forced him to jump forward until he was only a few feet away from Draco and obviously incredibly uncomfortable. "You lost."

"So? Noble Gryffindor that you are you could have put your own broom away." Draco crossed his arms, "I had to forge your signature under return or you would have had even more detention."

Harry Potter's head tilted as he thought. "Why didn't you just let me get in trouble?"

"Please," Draco rolled his eyes, "I know what Umbridge does in detention and I'm certainly not condemning you to that before I get a straight answer." He smirked at Harry Potter's hand, which was partially hidden under a long sleeve, "Besides, any more detention and you're likely to split all the tendons in your hand."

"So I'm to believe you're being nice to me now?" Harry Potter's nose wrinkled in disbelief.

"No!" Draco shouted. He glared at Harry Potter, "That's not at all what I'm... you snogged me! You insufferable git! So tell me why the hell you did it and then we can go back to making each other's lives miserable!"

"I don't know-" Potter began and Draco interrupted.

"Then let's find out," he snapped. "Did I just look incredibly desirable to you with my hair messed up and being all sweaty?"

Potter's jaw dropped and he shook his head quickly. "No, I.. er..."

"Alright," Draco continued, "Were you just high off of flying?"

"Well," Potter's features screwed up in confusion, "I don't know."

"Well you'd better!" Draco shouted, "I'm not letting you leave until you give me a straight answer so you can stop bloody stalking me!"

"I don't... I don't stalk you." Potter frowned.

Draco rolled his eyes and drawled, "You've been following me around for four days."

"Er..." Potter said, and Draco rolled his eyes again. "Er... maybe I'm just... trying to figure it out."

"How hard can it be?" Draco said, "Just remember back to after the flight and tell me what happened, idiot."

"I never thought of myself as a pouf!" Potter exclaimed, "And... and there's Cho..."

"Oh please," Draco drawled, "Don't make me the other woman in this. You're under no obligations with me because I wouldn't mind if you jumped off of the Owlery right now and splattered yourself all over the courtyard; I just want a straight answer."

"Go... go snog Pansy Parkinson or something, why is this so bloody important?" Potter yelled.

"How is it not 'bloody important'? And for the record, Pansy has been dating Blaise for almost two years."

Potter frowned. "Didn't you go to the Yule Ball together?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Yes, they broke up and I didn't have a date. Exactly how long have you been stalking me?"

"I'm not stalking you!" He protested.

"Yes you are," Draco said. "You idiot, you can't even give me a straight answer and I'm even up here stepping in owl dung just to find out, I should have known you were too thick to give a reason. My first bloody kiss and you have steal it like the prat you are."

Potter's face twisted into pity and Draco wanted to slap him. "First?" He asked.

"Of course it is."

"But... I thought you were the kind who you know, would have lots of Slytherin girlfriends, and didn't... wasn't Parkinson bragging about kissing you after the Yule Ball-"

Draco interrupted him. "Alright, first, if my father found out I was running around dating every girl I saw he would personally burn me at stake, second, Pansy Parkinson was bragging to get Blaise jealous, and third, I don't want to sit here and be trapped in your pity party. Don't you dare look at me like that again."

"I'm sorry." Potter said.

"No, you're not, give me a straight answer and then you can be sorry." Draco snapped.

Potter took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, and his hands grabbed the robes on his sides. "I like you," he said through clenched teeth.

"What?"

"I like you," Potter repeated, "just don't ask why because I can't give you an answer for that."

"You... like me?" Draco said incredulously. "You're joking?"

"No," Potter sighed as if he was reading his own death sentence, "I'm not."

"You're crushing on me?"

"Yes," Potter admitted bitterly.

Draco laughed, "You're serious? You are. You're bloody serious!"

"Thanks," Potter said stiffly. "I'm glad you think it's laughable, if you'll just excuse me I'll-"

He turned to leave but Draco grabbed his arm. "No bloody way," he said with a smile, "I'm not letting you leave now."

"Why? You're the son of Death Eaters; even if you liked me back we'd like be Romeo and Juliet." Potter said, almost mournfully.

Draco took his hand and pushed him back against the owl perches, "If we are, I am Romeo, you can be the girl."

"Let me go." Potter demanded, his face flushing as Draco closed their distance so that they were touching, faces close enough to see every detail, every eye lash.

"I can't, you have a crush on me, that's far too good for me to let go, don't you think?" Draco smirked.

Potter pushed him away, managing to hold him at arms length. "You don't return the favour," Potter frowned, "You just think this is part of some game we play. This is my life, so stay out of it."

"I'm already in it," Draco told him, and he grinned, "Maybe I don't like you and maybe I do, either way, do you really want to send the object of your affections away?"

"When the 'object of my affections' is you, yes." Potter growled.

"Hm." Draco stepped back, crossing his arms. "But you would like me to return the feeling, wouldn't you? You know it's stupid, but you want more than anything for us to be Romeo and Juliet."

"Er..." Potter swallowed. "Just stop, I'm leaving."

He turned, facing the door, and was a few steps away from it when Draco called out to him. "Snog me again."

Potter whipped around, "What?"

"Snog me again." Draco ordered.

"Why?" Potter shouted, "You don't like me at all! If you're trying to keep torturing me..."

"No, I've never had a crush." Draco told him, arms still crossed. "I've never even liked someone in a friendly way, so I don't exactly know how it feels. If you snogged me, maybe I'd realize that I do like you."

Potter stepped forward. Gingerly, he unclenched his right hand and set it on Draco's shoulder, concentrating on where he was touching more than anything. "You do realize that if Umbridge caught us you'd get detention for this"

"No I wouldn't." Draco told him, "I'm one of her favorites, I can't get in trouble."

Potter chuckled. Stepping closer, hand trailing to the back of Draco's neck.

Get on with it. Draco thought.

Harry Potter leaned forward, pulling Draco closer, until their lips just gently brushed against each other.

He pulled them away, and then Draco reached forward and yanked him closer until their lips mashed against each other.

This time it was Draco who ran away, practically flying out of the Owlery before Harry Potter had a chance to say a word.

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><p>Harry cornered Draco Malfoy in the library. The last time he'd seen him there Malfoy had been reading the forbidden Quibbler along with Crabbe and Goyle, frowning. The memory of when they were still enemies jumped to mind as he saw the Quibbler with the interview again in Malfoy's hand. "I never asked you," Harry said, feeling much calmer than he actually was, "Which part are you? Do you believe Voldemort's back or not?" His heart pounded and searched over Malfoy's every feature, from the long white eyelashes, the grey eyes which stared up at him, the white hair slicked back to perfection, every detail as if a sculptor had painted it.<p>

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, but he was in the back of the library and he knew that with the cool weather lately there would be nobody nearby. "On the record, no, I think you're mad." He told Harry, folding up the Quibbler article and placing it in his potions book. "Off the record, of course I know he's back, do you think I'm an idiot?"

"Had to check?" Harry told him. He was tired, but he had run over this meeting in his mind so many times he knew the answer to practically anything that Malfoy could say.

"I think it's rather interesting what you said about my father in the interview, 'sniveling at Voldemort's feet, begging for mercy'." Mafloy mentioned.

Except for that, Harry had no idea what to say to that.

"It's a good likeness," Malfoy told him, "that's honestly no stretch of imagination. Unfortunately, when everyone realizes you're right my father will be disgraced. He'll probably tell me to kill you."

"Would you?" Harry asked and then could have slapped himself for how stupid that was.

Malfoy just shrugged nonchalantly. "Probably not if only to spite him, but if you've come to snog me again I just might."

"You asked me to!" Harry shouted forgetting he was in the library.

"Shut up!" Malfoy hissed and Harry's eyes widened.

Lowering his pitch considerably, Harry said, "I just wanted to talk about it."

"About what? We both have crushes on each other apparently, but like you said, it would never work out. I'm the son of the servants of your worst enemy." Malfoy scratched his nose which somehow brought the feature to Harry's attention.

How exactly can a nose be perfection? Harry wondered, staring at it for a moment. Malfoy snapped his fingers to bring Harry back to the conversation, but instead of drawing attention to Harry's lack of focus he just took it in stride.

"Frankly, it was a stupid idea to snog you in the first place. But we can't exactly put the past behind us." Malfoy frowned, "We're in a terrible situation."

"Terrible? The fact that you like me too..." Harry cut himself off, saying, "If you really want we can just pretend it never happened."

Malfoy shook his head, rubbing his temples for a moment to think. "That would get me killed."

"Why?"

Malfoy glared at Harry. He sighed, consenting, and explained, "Have you ever heard of Occlumency?"

Harry couldn't help it, he laughed.

"What?" Malfoy snapped.

"It's, it's nothing. I have, yes, I have. Continue explaining." Harry said.

"Fine." Malfoy glared at him. "When I become a Death Eater the Dark Lord will look into my mind and he will see that moment, I won't be able to hide anything from him."

"Wait." Harry demanded. Seriously, he said, "'When you become a Death Eater? Not if or maybe? You're actually planning on it? Even after... er... after us?"

"Harry Potter," Malfoy drawled. If he had a crush on Harry he certainly didn't show it. He was staring at Harry liked Harry's intelligence was equal to Crabbe or Goyle. "My mother and my father are Death Eaters, I've already seen the Dark Lord, do you think he'd ever let me go? Do you think my father hasn't begged him to brand me?" Harry was speechless. Malfoy shook his head, "It's going to happen, whether I like it or not. I don't know when but... unless you kill the Dark Lord within the next month I am his... cattle."

Harry reached out, grasping Malfoy's hand. "Then I'll kill the Dark Lord," he said impulsively.

"You're not a killer." Malfoy told him, "You are many things Potter, but you could never be a killer." He didn't move his hand out of Harry's grip; he turned it slightly so that they held them together.

Harry stared down at the hands, seeing the graceful, long white fingers connected to his own callused hand. "If you asked me I think I could," he told him.

They looked at each other, not saying a word, for a long moment.

"Everyone always says your eyes are so green, and they really are." Malfoy said quietly. "Bright... brilliant green." He held the gaze for a long moment.

Suddenly, he pulled his hand out of Harry's and coughed, turning away.

"Right," Harry nodded. "So we have to..." he blanked, "What can we do about it?"

"Nothing," Malfoy told him. "We can do... absolutely nothing about it. I am certainly not a skilled Occlumense, are you?"

"No," Harry admitted, "I've been trying."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

"Well, er..." Harry mumbled, "I've been taking some lessons... because of the whole Voldemort thing, and I'm pretty bad at it. I can't exactly clear my mind, especially because of everything that's happening, with you, and Cho, and Umbridge."

"I certainly hope you haven't snogged Umbridge too." Malfoy smirked playfully.

"What? Ugh!" Harry shouted, "Why would you-"

"Please keep your voice down." Malfoy said through clenched teeth.

"Right." Harry whispered. He caught a glimpse of a smile cross Malfoy's face but it was gone in an instant.

"I figured, with the fact you look like you haven't slept in weeks, that you're having trouble sleeping." Malfoy told him, "I just attributed that to horror."

"Horror? Why horror?" Harry asked bemused.

"Well, you did seem so worried that you were a 'pouf'."

"Oh." Harry remembered.

Malfoy nodded, tapping away with a finger on the table as he thought. He stopped, crossed his arms, and then said, "In the magical world we don't have half as many... prejudices as the Muggle world does. The sexual liberation happened thousands of years ago and it was a lot more intense, because most wizarding people had already given up the 'evulutun' thing Muggles talk about in favor of just plain 'magic'. No one cares if you're married to a... centuar, or a werewolf, or even if you're half-elf. Any homosexual ignorance that we had was squashed out before the modern century... or actually before that, because it was just after that where the human-giant relations were made legal."

"Oh," Harry's face was screwed up in something akin to disgust.

"Come on," Malfoy rolled his eyes, "The gamekeeper is half-giant."

"No... it's the half-elf thing... they really have that?" Harry said, thinking of Dobby.

"Yes," Malfoy told him, "Do you pay attention in history or are you one of those people who just fall asleep and copy notes?"

"Er..." Harry shrugged, "Well... Professor Binns is very boring..."

"Right," Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I'm just informing you that if you did decide to go off and date a bloke the only people who'd think it was strange would be the Muggle-borns."

"So... someone raised like me?" Harry reminded him.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'm just trying to help you feel better about this whole thing."

Harry's eyes widened and a goofy grin came onto his face. "You're trying to cheer me up?"

"No." Malfoy said immediately. "Yes. Maybe, just shut up. I'll see you in Potions class tomorrow." He stood up but Harry jumped up, grabbing his wrist.

"But..." Harry protested, "What are we supposed to do about this whole thing? If Voldemort found out you would..."

Malfoy just shrugged.

"Don't do that!" Harry grabbed his shoulders, pleading, he said, "Let's just figure something out. I want to help you, please Malfoy."

"I'm far cleverer." Malfoy told him, "I'll figure it out when you're not bothering me."

"But-"

"Let go." Malfoy demanded and Harry obliged. Malfoy took a step to walk away, before he seemed to remember something. Turning to Harry he said, "My name's Draco, by the way."

Harry smiled, "I'm Harry."

Awkwardly, Draco stood there, staring at him for a moment. "Right," he nodded, "I'll be going." He hesitated before turning around.

"No goodbye kiss?" Harry teased hopefully.

Draco snorted, "I'm not a girl." And he left.

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><p><strong>This is your review reminder. Review.<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**And more for my as of yet review-less story...**

…

It was only a few hours later when Harry knocked on Professor McGonagall's office. She opened the door, raising her eyebrow as she saw him standing there. He was slightly wet, having likely been outside when it began to pour only an hour ago, but was mostly dry and very serious. "Well?" She asked incredulously, reminding Harry so much of Draco that he was only reminded two-fold of his purpose.

"I know Dumbledore is in his office, I know the password, but he won't let me in." Harry told her.

"If Dumbledore doesn't want to see you he doesn't have to, Mr. Potter," McGonagall nodded, sighing a bit. "Come inside, I'll get you a cuppa."

"I don't want _tea_," Harry told her, "I want someone to _help _me, I want a straight answer! Dumbledore never locked me out before and suddenly, now that Voldemort is back, it's like he doesn't want to ever see me."

"I can't give you the answers you want, Mr. Potter." McGonagall told him.

"Who can then? Not Mr. Weasley, not Snape, not Sirius-"

"Come inside," McGonagall said sharply. "We can't talk like this out here."

"Because of Umbridge." Harry said mournfully. "She took the school, Voldemort's tricked the Ministry, and no one will even talk to me. You can't help him, can you?"

"Help who?" McGonagall asked. Harry didn't answer and she pressed, "Harry, is there a student in trouble?"

"Yes." Harry told her. "But really, what can I do? Lock him in Grimmauld Place the rest of his life?" He turned around sharply.

"Mr. Potter!" McGonagall demanded.

"I'll see myself out, Professor."

...

Draco Malfoy grabbed Harry, pushing him into an old classroom before anyone could walk down the hallway and see. The door had no windows and he locked it with a quick spell.

"What's this for?" Harry asked him when Draco'd turned around.

"_I_ just wanted to see you." Draco told him, crossing his arms.

Awkwardly, Harry grinned, "Alright? Here I am." He hadn't seen Draco since the library yesterday afternoon; the Gryffindors had had no classes with the Slytherins. Today had been the very first day he had not counted that as a blessing.

Harry's gaze flew all over Draco's face, and his fingers twitched in either anticipation or desire, Draco didn't know which. But Draco grinned. "You seem tense," he said.

"I really, really, _really_ would like to stay and talk to you," Harry told him sadly, "But I have to go..." his gaze flickered to Draco's lips and he gulped, "I have a thing I can't talk about."

"I know; your little club Umbridge keeps rattling on about." Draco nodded.

"So... er..." Harry shrugged. "How've you been all day?" He offered.

"Shut up." Draco ordered.

Harry's brow wrinkled in confusion. "What?"

Draco stepped forward, cupped Harry's chin with his hand, and gently brushed their lips against each other. He stepped back, smirking a bit as he saw the curve of Harry's lip and his closed eyes.

"Hm." Harry mumbled, "You don't want to talk?"

"I figure we're both condemned anyways, why not enjoy it while we can?" Draco told him, "As much as I like to rattle on about our inevitable demise and the mysteries of the universe, I figured I'd catch you and give you a snog instead."

"What?" Harry frowned. Draco pushed him, and Harry fell with flailing arms onto the floor. "Ow!" Harry yelled, "Why did you-"

Draco sat down on the ground beside him and gently caressed Harry's cheek with his long fingers. "Because I thought about it," he said to a speechless Harry, "And this is more fun." He leaned down, capturing Harry's lip with a passionate embrace.

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco's neck, pushing him closer in a bruising grip neither minded. Draco turned his head sideways, anything to get closer to Harry, enamored of the warmth below him. Harry let out a moan, reaching out to pull Draco on top of him.

Draco pushed Harry's hands back, setting them beside his head. He wrapped his leg around Harry's side, straddling him with his knees, and he kissed Harry again, pulling Harry toward him by tugging on Harry's unruly black hair.

Arms freed, Harry wrapped them around Draco's middle, reveling in the lithe body above him. He pulled up his leg, pulling up to get closer, and that accidentally rubbed against Draco's groin. Draco let out a moan so erotic that Harry, for the absolute first time, found himself painfully aroused. He had no idea that _this _was how couples felt when he saw them, touching and snogging, hidden poorly in windows, behind archways or portraits, and after almost every Quidditch game, snuggled up in the same chair in the common room. He wanted it, he wanted Draco with him, holding him, dirty floor in an abandoned classroom or not.

Draco kissed him, passionately, lovingly, pressing into Harry as if there was nothing else in the world he needed more than to be close to him. He pulled away only to breathe, his long white hair, normally immaculately groomed, mussed up and falling, tickling Harry's nose, before he kissed him again.

Harry traced every part of Draco's body he could feel through the robes, the compact muscles, the thin frame, and he wanted him, to touch him, for eternity. Nothing he'd ever done, defeating Voldemort, catching the Snitch, nothing could compare to _holding_ Draco Malfoy. "I love you," Harry whispered when he could breathe.

"Mm." Draco replied, pulling Harry closer.

1

"Where've you been?" Hermione demanded as a ragged Harry walked through the Room of Requirement. "I had to just make everyone do what we worked on last time, Ron and I waited for you but it's almost curfew!"

Ron and Hermione were the only two left in the room. Pillows were trashed, books thrown everywhere, the Room of Requirement looking as if a hurricane had attacked it, the same as it always did after a good lesson.

Ron took in Harry's hair, messier than usual, his robes, tossed over and strange, his glasses slightly askew, and he grinned, "You look like you've been through the mill, mate, did you get attacked or something? We can always organize a..." He trailed off as he saw Harry's wide grin and heard the sound of humming. "Are you alright?"

"I am _perfectly_ 'alright'," Harry told them. He grabbed Hermione, twisting her around as if he were waltzing before letting her go and collapsing on the pile of feathers and torn pillow cases, "Absolutely, positively, and completely 'alright'."

Hermione's hands jumped to her hips incredulously and she glared at him, "You were _snogging _Cho again, weren't you?"

"No he wasn't." Ron said quickly. "Cho was here."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "Who were you snogging?" She demanded.

"Nobody." Harry chuckled, still grinning like an idiot. "Nobody, I swear."

"Then why are you smiling? Did Snape get fired?" Ron demanded, smiling as well at the thought.

"Ron!" Hermione chided. Calmly, she nodded at Harry, "What happened?"

"Nothing," Harry lied, "I'm just happy."

"Then why were you late? Because you were happy?" Ron asked, sitting down on the pile of feathers beside Harry. Hermione remained standing, glaring down at the both of them with all the fury of an avenging angel.

"Yes." Harry replied without thinking.

"So, how did you get this 'happiness' which made you late?" Hermione asked.

"I... I..." Harry searched for an answer.

"Don't lie to me!" Hermione yelled.

Harry's grin faded slightly, but then he said, "Alright, I'm sorry. It's just," he shook his head, "I don't know what it is but I think I..." He chuckled, "I don't know."

"Did you find out about that door yet?" Ron offered.

"No... no, I... er... It's rather hard to explain, but it is... and then it... I guess it happened or was happening before I just never noticed so..." Harry sighed. "I'm sorry Hermione."

"Explain why you're late." Hermione ordered.

Harry stood up with a sigh, pulling feathers from his robe. "Isn't it almost curfew?"

Both Hermione and Ron stared at him in disbelief. "You're keeping a secret from us?" Hermione shouted.

"I'll tell you... later." Harry told them. "It's... er... time to go, right? Can't have Umbridge catching us."

...

Harry and Draco met early the next morning, before anyone else except possibly the ghosts were awake. Harry changed as fast as he could, the early tendrils of daylight slipping through the window, grabbing his school bag and stuffing the Marauders Map and the Invisibility Cloak in his bag as well. He tip toed out of the room, glad to hear Ron's loud snoring. It wasn't difficult to get down to the Common Room, and he slipped out the door.

"A bit early to get to class, don't you think?" The Fat Lady sighed. Harry's eyes widened and he wiped around, caught like a deer in headlights, he'd completely forgotten about her. "Where are you going, Mr. Potter?" She asked.

"Uh... er..." Harry mumbled, and then he offered, "See my boyfriend?"

The Fat Lady smiled, "Well, good luck to you!"

Harry's jaw dropped. "Really?" He said, he had no idea it was that easy to get past her.

"Of course, all those new rules, you poor hormonal kids need some time to meet up, don't you?" The Fat Lady said, "Oooh! Get some breakfast from the house elves too. Oh, it's so romantic."

"Really?" Harry repeated.

"Oh, I'd love to be in school now," the Fat Lady smiled, "What a gossip it is, Harry Potter sneaking out to see his boyfriend."

"Don't tell anyone!" Harry hissed.

"Don't worry! I'll keep your secret." The Fat Lady winked and then 'shoo'ed him, "Go on, go on, don't keep him waiting."

"Thanks." Harry said, running away, but not before he heard the Fat Lady sigh, "Ah, young love..." Harry blushed purple.

...

Draco felt like an idiot, sitting alone outside, under the third tower where no one would be able to see him from a window. It was wet outside, so he sat on a rock he'd spelled to be dry. He hated waking up, and he never would have woken this early anyway if he hadn't been filled to the brim with anticipation and desire to see Harry again, to talk to him, hold him, and to snog him until he couldn't breathe again. This was... definitely new.

"Toast?" Harry offered, holding down a piece of buttered toast on a napkin. Draco took it, and Harry flopped down beside him and then frowned. He looked at the ground. "It's wet," he remarked like an idiot before blushing.

"It's called dew," Draco reminded him, "It does this almost every morning."

"I... I... I knew that." Harry told him, "I just didn't expect..."

Draco mumbled a spell and pointed his wand at Harry, instantly drying him and the land around him. He took a bite of the toast, chewed it for a moment, and swallowed. Wiping his mouth on the napkin, maintaining his impressive table manners even sitting on dirt, he commented, "I thought it was only the Slytherins and Ravenclaws who knew how to use the kitchen."

"I don't think most Gryffindors do." Harry told him. He'd eaten his own toast on the way down and now he foraged through his bag, grabbing the Marauder's Map from the bottom where it had slid to. "I want to show you something."

Draco took another careful bite of the toast and then moved closer to Harry so that their sides touched.

Harry tried to keep from turning red as he unraveled the Map. "This is... well, one of my prized possessions. It was my dad's, and then well, Fred and George stole it, but they gave it to me third year."

"What is it?" Draco asked. He tried to keep the look off his face, the one that said he was incredibly touched by Harry trusting him enough to show him something that precious, but it was far too early in the morning to keep a straight face.

"It's a map." Harry told him. He handed it to Draco, who set down the toast. He didn't need to wipe his hands because not even the slightest bit of butter or crumb had fallen, but he brushed them on his robes anyway.

"People?" Draco frowned, staring into the map, looking at the footprints, "That's the Slytherin dormitories..." He flipped through the map, "Those are the passageways..." Tracing his finger he remarked, "And that's the Squib!"

"You mean Filch." Harry frowned.

"Who else?" Draco watched the dot move, "It shows all the people, everyone... you know where everyone is all the time?"

"Yep, my father and his friends made it when they were in school." Harry told him, scooting a bit closer so that they were practically in each other's laps.

Draco grinned, "So, this is how you never get caught, isn't it? You could be out all night moving around and no one would ever see you." He then frowned, "This is how you stalked me, isn't it?"

"Er..." Harry didn't answer the question. He reached for his bag again finding the Invisibility Cloak much quicker. "There's something else," he said, hand slightly shaking in anticipation.

Draco folded the map on his lap and leaned onto Harry's shoulder to better get a glimpse down the bag, "What is it?"

"A cloak." Harry pulled it out with exaggerated flourish, placing it in Draco's hand.

"A cloak?" Draco frowned, fingering it carefully. It took a moment before he realized, eyes widening, "_Invisibility _Cloak." He stared at Harry, thoroughly impressed, "You... I mean this, you have all of this _and_ a Firebolt? You have got to be the luckiest person in the world."

"Hm, maybe I am." Harry said with a grin, gently placing his lips on Draco's cheek.

Draco shoved him away playfully. "Not _that_ was sappy," he said.

"I thought it might be romantic." Harry frowned.

"I not a girl," Draco snorted. "Don't patronize me."

"Well," Harry said, "Sorry for trying to-"

"Shut up." Draco told him. "We've got about an hour before everyone in the castle starts to wake up."

"So?" Harry asked.

"So?" Draco repeated slowly. He grabbed Harry's arm, tugging him over until Harry was right over him on all fours, looking down with an idiot's grin. "Snog me." Draco commanded, wrapping his arms around Harry's neck and pulling him close.

"With pleasure." Harry said, capturing Draco's lips in a loving embrace.

"Sap." Draco mumbled.

Harry pulled him toward him harder, until the bruises on their mouths from the night before chaffed and it was nearly as painful as it was exhilarating to be near each other.

1/0

They kept meeting each other for days after, Harry sneaking out early, avoiding Hermione and Ron as best as he could. They were almost caught once by Flitwick, and had to scramble under Harry's Invisibility Cloak and stay that way ten minutes while the Charms teacher searched the corridor for a dropped locket. Neither of them had minded, staying wrapped in each others arms, and although they didn't want to be considered weak, or, as Draco said, like two sappy lovebirds, they stayed that way long after Flitwick had gone.

Harry didn't know how Draco kept was he was doing hidden, only that Crabbe and Goyle didn't seem half as disgruntled as Hermione and Ron did. He didn't ask Draco, because opening up to what was happening with his two friends was far more painful than he would like to admit, and he wasn't sure how he would react if he heard Draco call Hermione a Mudblood or Ron 'Weasel'. It was bad enough the Slytherins kept along with their rousing chorus of 'Weasley is Our King' everytime one of them saw Ron walking down the halls, but Ron didn't say a word about it to Harry anymore and Harry didn't know what to say when people he'd seen Draco, his Draco, talking with, laughing with, insulted him or his friend. Ron took as a betrayal even worse than Harry's secret, or, as Ron called it, 'the stupid girl you're snogging and think you're keeping hidden'. Hermione refused to let Harry copy notes, sit next to her in classes, or even say a normal conversation that didn't start with 'Now let me tell you my secret'.

Harry had told them everything that had ever happened to him before, wasn't he allowed to have one secret of his own?

If Occlumency lessons taught him anything it was that he shouldn't bring attention to any memories or else Snape would open them up, make some stark comment, and then yell at him about how much more Harry needed to practice while he sat there glowing red wishing he could crawl under a rock. Of course, there was no better pick-me-up after Occlumency than to find Draco on the Marauder's Map, all alone, and run to him, hide in some empty closet or classroom and talk and snog until curfew.

He showed Draco everything, and in return Draco showed him nothing. Harry was too blinded notice or to think maybe something was a bit off and to ask. Draco was far more willing to talk about his past than he let out, he had secrets, he'd told lies, and he would have given them all up in any conversation with Harry. Harry never asked, although he did leave openings, spaces between talking about his crazy Aunt Petunia or explaining things about toasters and refrigerators for Draco to input anything about his past. And the only time Harry asked directly he was too vague, throwing the subject open and Draco replied with a quick, "My father would give me almost anything I asked for." And so Harry just assumed.

For Harry it was easy to bare his soul, to explain things, to tell Draco everything, to promise over and over that Draco would come home with him this summer, stay safe with the Dursleys, hidden so Draco's parents couldn't convert him. Harry promised that almost every time he saw him. Draco would smile, loving the idea. Stay safe with Harry meant _never_ meet his birth mother, _never_ become a Death Eater, _never_ worry about what the Dark Lord would to him, _never_ see his friends again, thousands of nevers, nevers, and nevers.

And Draco loved him. He loved Harry. He'd never loved before, he'd never been loved before, but somehow he just knew that absolutely, beyond any shadow of a doubt, he loved Harry Potter. And he only guessed that Harry loved him, because he didn't know how to be sure if Harry truly even cared for him. Draco'd been betrayed before.

Which was why he wasn't very surprised to see Cho Chang kissing Harry on a bench by the Quidditch pitch.

For some reason, he had to go to the hospital wing and missed practice that day, even though it cost him with the captain. He also missed when Harry pushed Chang away and the horror which crossed his face as he saw the Slytherin uniforms.

...

**This is your review reminder. Review.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Happy New Year! This is a present so you all may revel in my brilliance and I may receive more reviews, since reviews are my coffee and muse. So is coffee. Coffee is my coffee and muse. And Panic! At the Disco and the rest of my fav bands...**

** Oh, yes, the drama.**

**And... FIREWORKS! (Get it? Cause it's a holiday? Oh, never mind... saying 'get it' always ruins puns anyways. Wait, that wasn't a pun that was just... omg, I'm lame. Damn.)**

...

Harry had no idea how to get into clock over the courtyard.

He knew Draco was there, and he searched for ways around it for fifteen minutes, wrapped in his Invisibility Cloak, to absolutely no avail. Eventually, he was forced to shout, and Draco quite plainly pretended not to hear him.

"I was breaking it up with her, she thought... well, I'm sorry! She snogged me, I swear it!" He yelled up, hoping that no one was near the courtyard two hours past curfew. Draco didn't respond, and Harry was forced to leave.

...

Harry caught him between Herbology and DADA the next day. The only person who would get in trouble for being late to Umbridge's class would be Harry. He grabbed him, wearing the Invisibility Cloak, and pulled him behind one of the greenhouses which was never used. Crabbe and Goyle hadn't been looking, nor really had anyone else, and so they weren't as surprised to find Draco missing as they would have if they'd seen him disappear into thin air before their eyes.

"Let me go." Draco demanded, "I don't want to talk to you."

"I can explain," Harry entreated, pulling off the Invisibility Cloak.

"Oh sure," Draco drawled, "Explain exactly how long it was going to take you to tell me to shove off now that you had that _girl_ like puddy in your hands. Tell me, are you working your way through _all _of the Quidditch teams or just the Seekers?"

"Stop it!" Harry snapped, "Listen to me!"

"Why?" Draco asked, "Do you want to make me look even more like a fool or do you just want to laugh at me? Go ahead, I've done it to you more than enough times, but I swear that the revenge I get would be worse than the fate the Dark Lord wants for you."

Harry frowned at him, "I don't like Cho."

"Really? Do you just have a penchant for sleeping with girls while you date boys or did you just want to try something new?" Draco asked maliciously, "Or maybe you like centaurs, is that it? Are we just practice for Trelawney's little replacement? I understand, you want to be nice and prepared when that Firedor or Firetree or whatever decides to slam into your-"

"Stop it!" Harry shouted. "Silencio!"

Draco, unable to talk, glared at him with pure loathing.

Feeling slightly better, Harry tried to touch Draco's cheek or make sure other gesture but Draco pushed his arms away, crossing his hands and waiting for Harry's explanation. "I kissed Cho on Christmas Eve," Harry told him.

Draco's eyes rolled, and Harry could practically hear him saying _'and yesterday too, apparently'_.

"We went on a date on Valentine's Day, although I didn't really want to, and it didn't go very well, so I thought it was really over and then well... we had that Seeker's Duel." Harry said, his lips had a slight upward curve from that memory but the hatred in Draco's face brought him back to his explanation.

"I was just taking a walk around, I haven't been getting along well with Ron or Hermione lately, so... well I really was looking for a place to do my homework or... er I was looking for you too, because of that History paper we had to do and Hermione hasn't been letting me copy her notes."

_ 'Get on with it' _Draco's face said.

"Er... right, so Cho saw me, and she asked me where I was going and then I babbled something about the Quidditch pitch and she said she'd walk with me. It was just like... Valentine's Day never happened, she was flipping her hair and flirting with me and she wasn't crying at all."

Draco raised an eyebrow.

Harry blushed, "Er... long story. Anyway, I told her I wasn't interested and so she asked if there was anyone else and I said there wasn't." He sighed, "And well, I sat down, and then she sat down, and she kissed me." Harry closed his eyes and confessed, "I sorta kissed her back for a bit, I didn't mean it, but I shoved her away and then I saw... all the Slytherins practicing and I knew you had have seen it. I shoved her away, honestly, I told her I wasn't interested and then I looked for you. I just wanted to explain."

His eyes pleaded at him and Draco looked away, staring past him.

"I'm sorry." Harry said, "I'm sorry, honestly." He reached forward, cupping Draco's cheeks with his hands, trying to look him in the eyes. "I love you. Draco, I really love you, I don't want to hurt you."

Draco looked back, glared at him, and pointed to his jaw, which was clenched shut due to the charm.

"Right!" Harry said nervously, grabbing his wand out of his pocket and saying the counter-charm quickly.

The moment his jaw was free, Draco snatched Harry's wand out of his hand. "Never curse me again," he hissed furiously.

"I'm sorry." Harry closed his eyes. Thoughts swirled around his head, desperately, painfully, he knew it was over, he and Draco were done just because he was a stupid idiot.

Draco acknowledged that, "You're a git. A thick, wanking, sodding, bloddy git."

"I know." Harry nodded.

"The next time I see you kissing Cho Chang I will go to Azkaban for murder," Draco warned.

Harry dared to look at him. "Is that a good sign?" He asked hopefully.

"Possibly," Draco answered, turning to leave.

"Wait! So, do you forgive me?"

Draco turned around, frowning at Harry. "Of course I forgive, I could forgive you for anything, because as stupid as you are I love you too."

The joyous, idiotic grin returned to Harry's face. "You do?" He asked.

Draco shrugged, because he knew it would drive Harry crazy for him not to answer, but Harry's grin was mirrored on his face for one short moment.

...

They did it because of a letter Draco received from his father. He didn't tell Harry about the letter. Draco instead asked Harry about the Room of Requirement and told Harry to take him there.

The letter was a very nice one, because his father had written Draco saying that he was up for a very prestigious position in the Dark Lord's favor, some great plan was going to come to fruition and he was going to see it through. It was a dangerous plan but, Lucius Malfoy hinted, it had something to do with getting rid of Harry Potter forever, bringing on the grand age of the Dark Lord. His father also said that he was proud of Draco, for keeping his grades, his position as Seeker, as well as gaining the favour of Dolores Umbridge even during Draco's disquieting personal situation with the release of his birth mother from Azkaban.

_ To be careful, throw this letter in a fire. -Father_

Draco threw the letter into the fire in the Slytherin commons as he'd been asked.

Fear took him over, terrible, painful fear for Harry. Draco needed Harry to warn right then, that was the only time he could manage to say it, but he sat, alone, in a hallway for over two hours and Harry didn't come. There was a meeting of Dumbledore's Army that night, but Draco didn't know that. He was scared, and unfortunately he had enough time to think to convince himself not to tell Harry about his father's letter.

It was bad enough Harry knew who his father was. Harry didn't even know who Draco's mother was. Harry didn't know any of Draco's secrets.

Draco stayed awake all of that night, and when morning came it was Saturday. He found Harry quickly, and ordered him into the Room of Requirement.

"Why are we here?" Harry asked with a slight chuckle, staring at the door of the Room of Requirement. Draco held his hand, their fingers entwined together.

Draco didn't say a word, he opened the door, pulling Harry inside.

He kissed Harry, held him, and the Room of Requirement understood what he wanted, a bed with black curtains and black sheets. And Draco was assured that night of Harry Potter, the hero, the saviour of the wizard world, he assured himself of Harry's strength. He held him, kept him everywhere, and Harry's weakly mumbled protests fell into wordless cries of adoration. Draco wanted Harry, wanted him safe, and he wanted to know beyond a doubt that Harry loved him. Harry, warm, strong, held him and kept him, everywhere, and Draco let him inside him, ignored the moment of stinging pain, and it was Harry's instincts which took over. Draco loved him and cared for him with such fervor that no amount of pleasure was greater than holding Harry. He'd never felt it before, never understood it before, but he could almost feel himself changing every second of pleasure and desire.

Draco did not say the spell.

...

It was bliss after that, Harry's gaze softened to love every time he saw Draco. Nothing bothered him anymore. Not Hermione, not Ron, not Umbridge, not all the whispers saying he was insane, not anything. They didn't do it again, but he whispered things into Draco's ears whenever he held him in his arms, kissed him, caressed Draco with overwhelming joy. He promised Draco he would take him back to the Dursleys, he promised that together they'd defeat the Dark Lord, that he'd tell Hermione and Ron all about them, there would be no need for Occlumency because there would be no Dark Lord and they would marry and have children and raise them together and both be Aurors and battle evil for the rest of their lives and he promised _Draco Potter_.

Draco loved every minute of it but he still kept his silence, even when he knew something terrible was going to happen, something he wasn't sure about was happening to him, even when he knew that Umbridge was closing on Harry's beloved DADA club, he didn't say a word. He couldn't ruin any moment; he could not bring himself to ruin a perfect moment where someone loved him.

...

Fury drove Harry to say the sentence he said to Draco. He didn't mean it, not at all, but he still said it.

"You _liar_, get away from me!"

He didn't mean it. Harry honestly did not mean it. But who else was there at that moment? Which one of the members of Dumbledore's Army would tell Umbridge how to get in the Room of Requirement? He trusted Draco much more than them, but Draco was the one who patrolled the hallways for Umbridge, who worked for Umbridge, and so he immediately believed Draco did it.

Harry was sorry the moment he said it. Blood visibly drained from Draco's face and he jumped back from Harry like he'd been burned. Guilt crossed his face, along with confusion, before some idea entered Draco's mind, some secret he thought Harry was angry about. Pleading, Draco opened his mouth as if to cry '_I can explain_', to offer up some answer, but Harry stopped him.

"I have to go," Harry said, and the words snapped out of his mouth with a fury that they weren't meant to hold. He didn't apologize, he ran.

Draco had allowed Harry to explain before, but Harry just couldn't bring himself to allow Draco. He didn't even tell Draco why he was upset.

But it was Marietta, not Draco. Draco was innocent.

...

Umbridge told Draco what had happened when he asked her the next day, and Draco immediately forgave Harry.

How could he not forgive him? Draco loved him.

Harry Potter's club was destroyed. And after he had to witness Dumbledore leaving, everyone was likely bombarding him with questions, how could Harry not feel betrayed when his lover was obviously one of Umbridge's favorites? The only thing Draco was mad at was that Harry had shouted at him. Harry should have known Draco's health was delicate, he should have been more careful.

Draco waited, in a hallway few people ever walked by because the moving staircase provided a much quicker route to the dungeon. Harry would easily find him there the moment he looked at his map. There was a window, and Draco sat in it, allowing himself to be splashed slightly by the falling rain.

He waited for three hours and Harry didn't come. Draco was cold, but he didn't leave, he moved to sit against a wall, and continued to wait. Dinner even passed, and Draco knew he had to get down and he had to eat, but he didn't.

...

Guilt kept Harry from talking to Draco. He didn't want to fight with him, and he was certain that there would be shouting and anger the moment he tried to explain himself. But he would have liked to at least see Draco at the table, he wasn't there eating, and Harry hadn't even heard his name since the night before. Educational decree twenty-eight, allowing Dolores Umbridge to take the place of Headmistress, and the complaints of everyone due to that decree kept him more than distracted.

Blaise Zabini approached the Gryffindor table and docked them about thirty points for various reasons, and Harry found out about the Inquistatorial Squad. He was certain the next time he saw Draco that he would be wearing one of the badges. Draco wouldn't refuse because of Harry, he would accept Umbridge's little promotion in status whether Harry liked it or not, and it was rather that thought which had Harry grinning into his soup before he could wipe that it his face.

And then Filch came up to Harry and told him that Umbridge wanted to see him.

...

Umbridge offered Harry numerous drinks, which Harry only pretended to swallow, and had only managed to ask him where Dumbledore was and where Sirius Black was before there was a loud bang in the hallways. The two of them rushed outside to see what was the matter. Umbridge's face contorted into horror and Harry laughed.

Fireworks, rockets, dragons and flowers, spinning around, unleashed noises and fire and colors. The other students were cheering and Harry joined in as Filch and Umbridge raced around, attempting to stop the fireworks with magic that only duplicated them while everyone else watched with mirth.

Harry watched until he'd had enough, making his way to his next class but first stopped, offering his pleased congratulations to Fred and George. George began to brag about something to do with Vanishing charms when Harry saw Draco out of the corner of his eye.

He had come down almost certainly to see what was going on. His hair was rather disheveled, and there were black rings around his eyes, and Draco moved as stiffly as if he'd slept on stone. He saw Harry, their gazes crossed, and Harry had just a moment to see the miserable expression on his face and Draco's red eyes before he turned sharply away, disappearing down the hallway.

Harry left Fred and George, neither of whom minded as Angelina had come up to congratulate them as well and to warn them to get out of Umbridge's sight. He raced down the hallway, turning a few corners, but without his map he didn't have a way to find Draco.

Mentally berating himself, hating everything about himself with uncalled for passion, Harry went to his classes because Ron had found him and was dragging him there. He didn't find pleasure in watching Umbridge race around trying to stop the sparklers, or the fact that no work was done at all and no homework given. His sole thought was that he did not see Draco anywhere.

Ron and Hermione were watching him carefully, so he sat in the common room with everyone else, watching the fire works and laughing along with the rest as they told brilliant stories and everyone fawned over Fred and George. His heart was not in it, and Harry heard, despite the noise, Hermione whisper to Ron, "I think they fought."

"He's moping, what should I do?"

"Say you're tired, go upstairs and talk to him." Hermione ordered, "Make him go to sleep, it's late enough."

"But I want to watch the firewo-" Ron began.

Hermione interrupted with a single look.

"Alright, I'll put Harry to bed," Ron growled. Hermione rolled her eyes.

Harry waited a moment, until he felt Ron's hand on his shoulder. "Hey, mate, you as tired as you look?"

"Yes." Harry nodded.

...

Harry and Ron slipped into their pajamas, pausing every one in a while to see a particularly interesting firework go by their window.

"Want to play chess before we go to bed?" Ron offered. "It's not that late."

"Sure," Harry said. Anything to take his mind of Draco. He couldn't wear his cloak and go searching tonight, _anyone_ loyal to Umbridge was likely to be running about trying to stop the fireworks, and if Draco wasn't helping Umbridge he'd be in the Slytherins dormitories and Harry had no idea how to get inside.

Ron beat him in three moves, but they kept playing because neither wanted to argue with Harry's chesspieces, who were shouting at him to 'press onward' and 'never give up'.

"Girls, right?" Ron began awkwardly.

"What about girls?" Harry asked, glaring at a particularly annoying chesspiece.

"Well, your girl, right? She's been giving you trouble?" Ron offered.

"No." Harry said.

Ron rolled his eyes, "Come _on _Harry. I promise not to tell Hermione, you can complain to me if you want, bloke to bloke. We both know you're seeing someone anyway, we're not daft."

They had to pause talking for a long moment because a loud BANG! rendered them both temporarily deaf.

"You know..." Harry began, "It's not... I mean, you wouldn't think of it as weird if... er... if I... were possibly... uh..."

"Is she... a Slytherin?" Ron asked, offering up something else.

Harry didn't answer, but Ron didn't take that as a 'yes', he didn't pause, instead rattling off suggestions ranging from 'is she a third year' to 'is she half-vampire' until Harry had to stop him. He was getting a headache and the badgering, plus loud noises, plus the fact he hated himself at the moment wore him down until he growled, "'_She's_' a bloke."

Ron nodded. "Alright," he said nonchalantly, "that narrows it down. Now is your boyfriend in our House or in another? Or does he-"

"Wait," Harry interrupted, "You don't think that's weird?"

"What's weird?" Ron asked. Realization came to mind, "Oh don't worry, I figured you'd tell me about it all eventually, so-"

"Not that I didn't tell you, but the fact 'she's' a he." Harry entreated.

"No..." Ron said slowly, "Why would that be weird?"

"Well, most Muggles think it is, guys and guys and girls and girls, and, you kept asking me who 'she' was... so..."

Ron shook his head. "Okay, listen Harry. Muggles are weird, wizards don't care about that, and I just assumed because you'd snogged Cho and all."

"Oh," Harry said.

"Well, now that we've cleared that up." Ron grinned, "Who is he?"

Harry almost said 'Draco Malfoy' before he realized that while Ron was likely a thousand times more accepting than he'd assumed, one thing did not change with them. They all hated Draco Malfoy. Supposedly. Harry, suddenly switching to loving Draco Malfoy to the point of having sex with him less that a week after he'd come to that realization, was the only one who'd changed. That was how it had been for almost five years; Harry hated Malfoy and loathed Snape. Now he just loathed Snape.

How would they know how incredible Draco was without Harry showing them? Draco listened without a word, he snogged like a god, he'd forgiven Harry even after Harry had been an idiot, he'd even taken bottom, no protest, no sound. That night... every time Harry breathed he thought about that night, the desire he needed, he had no idea... if he could just hold Draco and never let go, that would be bliss.

But if he so much as mentioned the name 'Draco Malfoy', Ron's face would screw up in disgust.

"Fine," Ron said, consenting to Harry's long silence. "Well, the thing about us blokes is sometimes we're hard headed, give it some time I'm sure he'll apologize to you."

"_I_ was the git, Ron." Harry corrected.

Ron didn't have a thing to say that. Pausing for a long moment only to move a chesspiece. "Let's just bugger off to sleep," he suggested.

Harry did, and an explosion outside almost made him grin as he thought about how Umbridge's first day on the job was progressing.

Harry was walking down the corridor in the Department of Mysteries. It was the black door, plain as ever, and he found himself wishing ... _Open, let it open... let it open..._

A circular room, identical crossed doors, he opened one, practically gliding through...

A rectangular room. There were mechanical clicks and flashing lights and strange devices he could see out of the corner of his eye but he didn't stop... A door opened at his touch...

A dimly lit room, with a huge ceiling, rows were stacked like a library, filled with strange orbs... Harry's heart pounded, knowing where he had to go, knowing something was there...

BANG! A loud rocket interrupted his dream and Harry awoke with a start, hearing gleeful laughter even as his heart sank. His scar pained him incredibly and he realized with a sinking heart that he had another Occlumency lesson tomorrow, and he had no idea how he could hide Draco from Snape now when he was so prevalent on his mind.

...

Draco wanted to see Harry so badly he could barely breathe. Umbridge ordered him about, telling him which hallways to search, screaming at the lot of her only faithful friends who bothered to stay up in the middle of the night to help.

Draco was being an idiot. He needed to change out of his rain soaked clothes, he needed a hot bath, and he needed to eat. He hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon and his stomach was growling at him in a painful reminder that he wasn't eating only for himself anymore. He should sleep, in his bed, take a Calming Draught, and see Harry tomorrow. Draco had to take care of himself, what would Harry do if he knew that Draco had slept on the cold stone floor, shivering because his robes were wet?

If Harry ever found out what Draco was doing while he carried their child Draco was certain he'd never hear the end of it. Although that was assuming Harry still cared, that Harry didn't hate him again. After all, he never even talked about the child and he _had_ to know. Draco hadn't performed the spell to keep it from happening, and any idiot knew what happened when two magical creatures, different species or gender, 'loved each other very much'.

Draco would have liked to talk about it with Harry, they were both only fifteen after all, but he kept his silence out of respect. Harry had a lot on his mind lately, after all, _he_ was the one who had to figure out how to get Draco to the Dursleys, plus he was having all the trouble sleeping, and that coupled with Occlumency lessons and the O.W.L.s and a certain dark lord; Harry was likely dismissing the entire matter from his mind, and it wasn't entirely fair of Draco to force the prospect of a _child_ on him when he was obviously preoccupied.

The baby would be Draco's to worry about until Harry had time, Draco accepted that.

His father had written Draco no more letters and Draco had written him none, he was still frightened about whatever it was his father had been planning, but Draco had seen countless members of the Order of the Pheonix about, and Dumbledore, gone from Hogwarts, was likely traversing the countryside, locking Death Eaters into Azkaban as he went.

Draco, very secretly, just wanted Harry to forget about the other night and ask him how his day had been. It was a very simple question that people asked other people all of the time, and the pleasant little, 'How did your day go, Draco?' would be exactly what he needed to know that everything was back to normal.

In the meantime, he had to douse Filch whenever the Squib's hair lit on fire due to a stray rocket and Draco didn't enjoy it half as much as he knew he should.

...

**This is your review reminder. Review.**


	4. Chapter 4

**My plot is getting to the point where it is going to surprise you. It's not as cliché as you think.**

...

Draco got up from his place on a windowsill with a sigh when he heard shouting from the floor below. He did not want anyone to come up and catch him there, looking like an idiot or a stood-up girl. Besides, he was enormously stiff and he did not have the energy to confront any Gryffindor or Hufflepuff with a grudge, despite chocking down breakfast that morning.

So he began to shuffle away when someone ran past him, coming up from the staircase, and bowled him right over. The person lay still, sprawled all over him, and Draco had to wait a moment to catch his breath before he shoved them off, shouting something unintelligible about Umbridge and personal space before he recognized who it was he had pushed to the floor.

"Draco." Harry said, eyes widening with recognition.

Draco frowned, thinking back to the shouting he'd heard. "Was that Professor Snape?"

Harry nodded, and he stared at him with incredible pity. "Oh... you look horrible."

"Thanks." Draco snapped, standing up. "That's what everyone wants to hear, isn't it?"

"I didn't mean that." Harry insisted. Confusion was riddled on his features, but not from anything Draco had said, "I don't mean a lot of things, like before when I said... I was just... being a git."

"Like you hadn't had a rough day." Draco excused him with a wave of his hand. He reached down, helping Harry up, and then he dusted off Harry's robes. "From the looks of things, today hasn't been any better, has it?"

"You have no idea." Harry's forehead was wrinkled as he thought. "I was... I've been taking Occlumency with Snape."

Draco nodded. He knew Snape well enough to be tribute to the fact that he was an accomplished Occlumense; of course, Dumbledore likely didn't know that Snape was still working with the Dark Lord. Draco's hands, brushing dust off of Harry's collar halted for a bit as he asked, "Did Professor Snape see anything about us? While he trained you?"

"No," Harry said, smiling at Draco. "I know it well enough to shove some other, rather embarrassing memories, at him. It's a pain, but at least you're safe."

Draco smiled. "Thank you. My safety _should_ be your number one priority," he reminded Harry. Harry chuckled a bit. Draco had a habit of occasionally saying something extremely obnoxious and self centered but not meaning it at all and grinning about it afterward, a tendency only Harry had every seen. But Draco had been being incredibly serious, he was carrying Harry's child after all, but he let Harry's rather inappropriate laughter slide. "How are lessons going?"

"They're not." Harry sighed, shoving his hands into the pockets of his robes. "They just ended."

Draco frowned with concern. "Why?"

"I saw something that... well, that I don't think Snape ever wanted me to see." Harry stared at the ground, "I don't think _I _ever wanted to see that anyways. It's hard to believe someone you'd built up in your mind to... almost like a hero could so dash your expectations." He shook his head gently.

"Who was this person?" Draco asked.

Harry didn't think he would ever manage to tell Ron or Hermione or even Sirius what he had seen and he couldn't imagine a person even closer to him than they were. Although, no. He could. Draco. "My father," Harry answered quietly. "I just saw... I was about to have the lesson and Crabbe walked in, saying something about needing Snape 'cause Montague was in a toilet upstairs... there was a Penseive... in one of Snape's memories..."

"Well," Draco said, "I wouldn't dive into Professor Snape's mind if I was paid for it. Come on, I say that we get a pastry from the kitchens and then you go to bed, it's late."

"No, wait." Harry said, trying his best to smile at Draco, "We haven't talked and I mean... er..." he gestured to Draco's Inquistator badge, "I mean, what's going on with that? And there are ashes on your robes... did you stay up all night with the fireworks?"

"No, I went to bed around two, but I think Gregory and Vincent were up all night." Draco smiled, "You should see what _they _look like."

Harry bit his lip. "Er... who are Gregory and Vincent?"

"Goyle and Crabbe," Draco translated without a thought. "And about the badge, you have an Invisibility Cloak, if we're going to keep meeting early or after curfew like this I need _some_ excuse to be about. Besides," he smirked, "I can take points away from Hufflepuff for absolutely no reason, it's brilliant."

Harry frowned at him. "Riiight."

"Er... I mean..." Draco rubbed the back of his head, and mumbled, "Well, you can't expect me to change overnight..."

"I didn't." Harry smiled. He took a deep breath and the idiotic grin returned to his face. "I'm sorry I didn't talk to you, I felt like an idiot."

"Well you were, I kept waiting for you an eventually I got sick and tired of waiting_ and_ then I kept bloody waiting for you, so you had better make it up to me." Draco crossed his arms.

A rather serious, longing look came to Harry's face and he stepped forward, holding Draco's neck. He pulled him toward him, kissing him brashly on the lips. "I can think of one way," Harry whispered, voice thick with desire, "We haven't done it in over a week, and I thought..."

"Oh Harry," Draco sighed, "I would but... I'm so tired. I'm sorry."

A different glint came over Harry's face and a light appeared in his eyes. He didn't seem downcast at all, saying passionately, "You can get away with almost _anything_ 'cause of Umbridge, can't you?"

"Just about," Draco nodded. "What does this have to do with shagging?"

Harry turned slightly pink, but added, "Can you get away with staying out all night?"

Draco shook his head. "Harry, I only ate breakfast today and I didn't get a lot of sleep, I've been studying for the O. like a maniac and we have tests in almost every subject the day after tomorrow, I really, really love you but-"

"No," Harry said, "Let's just sleep together."

"Were you listening to me?" Draco asked incredulously.

"Yes, I mean _just_ sleep. I have my cloak with me, you can sneak in the dormitories, and we'll get up early like we always do, and sneak down into the kitchens, get some breakfast and study together," he offered hopefully, "What do you think?"

"You want… to _cuddle_?" Draco raised his eyebrow.

Harry thought about that for a long moment. Eventually he was forced to admit, "Yes."

"All night? Just because you had a bad day? Do you honestly expect me to be your teddy bear, Harry?" Draco frowned.

"So... no?" Harry's face dropped.

"Of _course_ I'm saying 'yes'," Draco told him, "But I can't exactly go back to my dorm and get my pajamas, besides, what if one of your roommates wakes up in the middle of the night and sees us?"

"We do have curtains." Harry offered.

"Oh," Draco rolled his eyes and drawled, "Flimsy material, I feel _so_ safe."

...

"Back rather late, aren't you, Mr. Potter?" The Fat Lady commented. "Well, off to bed now, there's school in the morning."

Harry nodded, thanking her, but not trusting himself to sleep. He mumbled the password, which happened to be charmed by the students to be 'Toady Umbridge', and he heard Draco's light chuckle behind him.

Perhaps the portrait realized that the door was open too long for just Harry to get in... He thought, paranoia attacking him. Perhaps someone was sitting in the armchair... were Ron and Hermione waiting for him? Was that a shadow?

"Humble," Draco drawled quietly from behind him, "You Gryffindors have no sense of interior design."

"Well, at least it's not all green." Harry countered. He would have reached out to hold Draco's hand, even if Draco called him a sap again for it, but Draco was still wearing the Invisibility Cloak. "Come on," Harry whispered.

He led Draco upstairs, beginning to panic as he remembered that his clothes were lying around his area, his books were on the bed, and his trunk was open. Harry cursed himself silently for being so sloppy and not bothering to clean up. Draco was absolutely one of the kind of people who were neat and orderly, he wasn't likely to be impressed by a sloppy bed unless Voldemort himself was unconscious and tied up on it.

The door to his room opened with a small creak, and Harry, entering first, was even more aghast to suddenly realize that all of his roommates were as messy as he was.

"Do you ever clean up?" Draco whispered playfully and Harry's face burned.

The bed, made by the house elves while they were in school, was gratefully nice and orderly except for the parchment and books Harry had left on it, which he shoved off quickly with one motion. He regretted that immediately, as they clattered to the floor.

"Careful," Draco chided.

However. If anyone heard the books crashing over Ron's snoring that would be ridiculous. Draco was wincing at the sound of that, looking over to Ron's bed. "Is that Weasley?"

Harry nodded. He searched through the bags, desperately searching for any clean pajamas he could lend to Draco, while Draco painstakingly folded the Invisibility Cloak and set it on top of Harry's school bag. "Er... is this okay?" Harry asked, pulling up a mismatching pair of pajamas.

Draco just nodded, not caring in the slightest. He pulled off his own robes and clothes, tucking them under the bed after folding them neatly, so that they wouldn't be seen. Draco, reaching for the underwear, smirked slightly when he saw Harry's longing expression, eyes trailing over his body. "Later, Harry," Draco teased. Harry's face turned a bright red.

Trying not to seem forward, or annoying, or whatever it was he was embarrassed about, Harry picked up pajamas from the ground and pulled them on quickly. He pushed over the covers, awkwardly climbing into the bed. Harry held his breath for a long moment before he felt Draco crawling in beside him.

Harry lay, staring at the roof, and Draco curled into him, his head resting on Harry's shoulder, his arm on Harry's stomach. Harry, wrapping his arms around Draco, found the idiotic grin sliding back onto his face. It was actually peaceful, to be with Draco like this.

Draco gently took one of Harry's hands and moved it down so that it was on Draco's stomach.

Harry sighed happily, closing his eyes.

"Remember to clear your mind," Draco whispered.

"What?" Harry's eyes flew open.

"Your Occlumency." Draco reminded him, "You have to clear your mind when you sleep."

Harry frowned. He sat up a bit before he realized that disturbed their position on the bed. He lay back down, pulling Draco a bit closer to him. "How am I supposed to do that with you here?" He brushed the hand that had lain on Draco's stomach on Draco's face, tickling him so that Draco wrinkled his nose.

"Concentrate on one thing," Draco told him, "just concentrate on something here that's strong and just think about that when you're falling asleep."

"Okay," Harry nodded. Shifting slightly, he got into a better position, Draco's warmth pressed up against him. "Goodnight," he whispered.

"Goodnight, Harry." Draco took Harry's hand, placing it against his own stomach again. As he felt Harry drifting off, he could not help but feel disappointed. Draco had wanted Harry to talk about the child, but again he had to be content that Harry just had a lot on his mind.

...

Harry didn't talk about the baby that morning either.

They shuffled downstairs, Draco careful not to become a literal version of the expression 'caught like a Slytherin in the Gryffindor House'. Harry was apparently on friendly enough terms with the portrait, because she let them out without a fuss, they had breakfast, and then found an empty classroom with a view of the lake and settled down to pretend to study.

For one of the first times, Draco dominated the conversation. He asked Harry about children. He asked him how Harry was when he was little, what Harry knew about them, if Harry had ever taken care of one before, what he wanted his own children to look like, and thousands more. Harry, paying little attention to the conversation and far more to the Hog-Boar rebellion of 1053, did not seem to have a clue what Draco was vainly hinting at, nor did he fill the empty spaces in Draco's talking with 'our baby will be a Quidditch player' or 'I'm sure we'll figure out how to change nappies' or, as Draco secretly hoped, 'don't worry Draco, I know you're pregnant with my child at fifteen years old _and_ there's a Dark Lord out to kill me_ and_ your parents want to convert you to be a Death Eater, but I'll protect you and make sure you and the baby are safe, and there's no need to worry about when you give birth either, I'll bring in a team of twenty professional midwives and doctors just for you'.

Instead Harry asked him if it was Ignoswitch the Hog Queen or Boof the Orange who slayed the leader of the Hod-Boar rebellion.

Draco tried very, very hard to keep his temper.

He didn't say a word, even when, after his History test, he saw Cho sitting next to Harry on a bench on the third floor. She was talking animatedly, making some gestures with her hand, saying something, and her fingers trailed Harry's wrist. Her hair was bright and shiny, nails manicured, eyes smoky and alluring, and Harry did not push her away this time.

Draco waited for Harry to explain this one but he never did. And so, what was Draco supposed to do? Harry already forgave him for his outburst once, Draco couldn't push Harry away again, he'd pushed away his friends in Slytherin, his father, and even Professor Snape. All he had was Harry, because Draco loved him and he was fairly certain that Harry loved him back.

...

Harry found the time approaching the O.W.L.s incredibly taxing. Cho kept seeking him out, apologizing for Marietta, Hermione was indignant that any time Harry spent not studying were points docked off of his O.W.L. score which apparently was tied into Harry's life according to its importance, Ron asked Harry almost every hour to go flying with him, and the worst of all, Harry was certain that Draco was slipping away from him.

Draco kept sighing, and rolling his eyes, his fists would clench even when Harry wasn't saying anything. Strangely, he would ask Harry, over and over, to repeat what Harry said about taking Draco home with him, about defeating the Dark Lord, being friends with Ron and Hermione, having children and being Aurors, to the point where Harry became rather annoyed that he had ever said anything at all. Draco was searching through that every time Harry said it, watching Harry's face carefully, and whenever he finished Draco would just nod and look at the ground. It was giving Harry the perpetual feeling of failing some test, this one of far more importance than all of Charms, Transfigurations, and DADA combined.

Harry's nerves were on edge and he almost wanted to stop seeing Draco, except that any time he thought about that he just felt incredibly guilty. There was something wrong with them, and Harry knew it, he just didn't have time to find out. Harry, two more times, brought Draco to sleep with him in the Gryffindor dormitories. They had not done_ it _again, this time due to a mutual exhaustion and the fact Draco seemed to be constantly feeling sick.

Harry was feeling so cluttered, so wrapped up in his own mind and so confused, that he didn't have a clue who he could talk to, who he could unravel everything to. He would have talked to Draco except that Draco was part of the problem. Harry needed advice.

So he decided to talk to Sirius.

...

Unfortunately, Harry didn't quite manage. Lupin was also there, and before he'd even finished explaining what he'd seen in the Pensieve with his father Harry mentioned in passing that he was not taking Occlumency lessons with Snape and the two of them exploded. Before Harry had enough time to be told eighteen times that 'Occlumency is the most important thing you can do' and 'you have to train Harry' and 'it's extremely important', Harry had to leave because someone was entering Umbridge's office and he couldn't be caught inside, but not before telling Sirius that there was something else and that it was also very important and that Harry _really _needed to talk to him.

Meanwhile, Fred and George turned a hallway into a swamp and left Hogwarts to start a joke shop.

Harry wished them and himself luck. They all earnestly needed it.

...

Things happened in rapid succession to Harry.

Hagrid gave the care of his giant half-brother to Ron, Hermione, and him and begged them to teach 'Grawp' English, Ron won the match against Ravenclaw with a stunning and surprising turn-a-bout, O.W.L.s were approaching and everyone began to grow enormously obnoxious.

Then, one time, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were walking outside, when Neville Longbottom, coming from the direction of the greenhouses, decided to stop and chat.

Draco Malfoy, head deep in his Potions book, not looking at all where he was going, did not notice when Neville Longbottom tripped and the two fell on each other.

It was just the five of them, and Harry's heart began to beat faster.

"Get off me," Draco growled, pushing Neville away, brushing dirt off of his robes. His Potions book had fallen down and he cursed, looking for it, until he noticed Ron and Hermione there, and behind them, Harry.

"Where are your bodyguards, Malfoy? Did they find another ferret to follow around?" Ron growled.

Draco frowned, "No, Weasley, I'm sure your small little brain hasn't managed to compute this yet but the O.W.L.s are next week. They're studying." His gaze trailed over to Harry.

"Like we should be doing," Hermione told them all sternly, trying to steer them away from conflict while glaring at Malfoy. "Neville, Harry, Ron, let's go back to our dormitory."

"Right," Neville said, sitting up from the dirt. His hand fell on Draco's Potions book, and he held it up to Draco.

Draco took the book without a word, did not send back another glance at them and did not say any biting, vicious insult. He walked, almost at a jog, back to the castle.

Ron's jaw dropped, even as he helped Neville up. "What the bloody hell is up with Malfoy?"

Harry turned pink, but no one noticed.

"It's me."

Neville said that and quickly drew all of their attention as well as Harry's disbelieving stare. "Malfoy hasn't been bothering me ever since the mass breakout from Azkaban." Neville told them. He shrugged, "It's been rather nice actually, once he stopped Zabini from hitting me with Stinkbombs."

"Why would he do that?" Ron shouted incredulously.

"Well, Bellatrix Le... Lestrange was one of those people who got out of Azkaban, and if... if you think about it she's... she's his aunt." Neville told them.

Harry's eyes widened.

"It's okay though," Neville smiled. "I mean, it's not like Bellatr... trix Lestrange is after me, and anyways, _Malfoy_'s being nice to me about it. Well... he's really the only one except some teachers but..."

Hermione just shrugged. "Well, maybe there is some heart under that ice and stone, but honestly, can we get back to studying?"

Ron groaned and Neville left them very quickly after that. Harry, as he stared, unreading, at the Transfiguration notes in front of him, ran over that moment in his mind thousands of times.

...

**This is your review reminder. Review, pweez?**


	5. Chapter 5

** Boooorrreed... please praise me, exams are coming up and I'm nervous... speaking of exams:**

…

Hermione was horrible to study with, as was Ron, and Seamus, and Neville, and Ginny, and Dean, the only person Harry didn't mind was Draco. With Draco, curled up in an abandoned classroom early in the morning and late at night, Harry learned far more than he ever thought he could. Harry was motivated entirely by trying to impress him, and meanwhile Draco was concentrating entirely on helping Harry, repeating anything or explaining things which gave Harry trouble, and although that meant they traveled through Potions and History painstakingly slowly, Draco did not make a single complaint.

They could hold hands and concentrate on something other than what was plaguing their minds.

And then Exams were upon them.

Charms and Transfigurations were easier than Harry guessed, and both of his examiners greeted him with "Harry Potter, _the _famous Harry Potter?" the only distraction was in Charms, because Draco Malfoy was within his line of sight as they both did their exams and Harry, despite the inappropriate nature of his desire, found himself longing to hold him, and snog him until they were both purple and shag him into that bed with black curtains and black sheets like he... the rat Harry was supposed to be turning orange exploded.

He probably failed that exam, but Harry was certain he received 'Outstanding' on his Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Potions was on Monday, and by this time Harry was so tense he had to have the difference between right circles and left circles in the stewing pot for the Hillin Potion explained to him by Draco for almost thirty minutes. At the end of that, Draco became slightly more himself because he threw the book across the room and picked up his own notes and read them, completely ignoring any of Harry's attempts to apologize, except when Harry stole Draco's notes and they began to snog against some old teacher's desk.

The O.W.L.s marked the period in Harry's life where he learned to take freezing cold showers as well.

Harry did horrendous in Divination, and when he asked Draco how things were going, Draco replied that he hadn't slept in over a week, studying instead for exams and taking numerous potions, and therefore was confident he had gotten 'Outstandings' in everything except Care of Magical Creatures because he refused to touch the bowtruckle because, _honestly, _it was a dirty little magical creature so why on earth would they expect a pure blood to dirty themselves enough to actually hold it. Harry that night, despite the danger, forced Draco into the Gryffindor dormitories and made him sleep. He had no idea that the simple gesture of making Draco get rest was the greatest thing he could ever have done for him to show Draco that he loved him.

During the Astronomy Exam, Umbridge got rid of Hagrid with many spells and hospitalized Professor McGonagall.

The last exam was History of Magic. Harry couldn't find Draco anywhere to study with him, and so, despite the horrors, was forced to study with Hermione. As a result, he was very tired as he entered the Great Hall.

Harry fell asleep in the middle of the exams.

He dreamed of the Department of Mysteries. He passed through the door, and through the different passageways, into the hall shining with strange balls, until he came to one row and he saw Sirius Black being tortured.

...

Draco was one of those few, and crazy, people who decided to take the exam when it was first open, and so he was long done, reading a novel as apposed to a textbook. By the time he heard what had happened Draco was much too late to see Harry in the hospital wing.

...

"Sirius isn't here," Kreacher told Harry.

...

Umbridge pulled Harry out of the fireplace by the hair. Draco, behind her, winced sympathetically. He tried not to let his expression be noticed by the large toady woman or Hermione Granger and Millicent Bulstrode. Millicent had Granger in a death grip by a wall and Granger, to her credit, was doing her best to get free.

"I had Stealth Charms placed all over my office!" Umbridge shouted, "Did you think you could sneak in here?"

She shoved Harry to the ground, easily wrestling the stunned wizard free of his wand, which she tossed to Draco. Draco was very tempted to hex her.

"Who were you communicating with?" Umbridge demanded, grabbing Harry's hair again, his glasses hanging on his head by one ear. Harry mumbled something about his Muggle family. "_Liar_!" Umbridge screamed.

Harry's gaze flitted around the room, seeing Granger and Millicent, but when he saw Draco his eyes widened considerably. Draco offered him a sad smile.

A loud commotion happened by the door, and Vincent, Gregory, Vestle, Warrington, and a sixth-year Slytherin girl who was on their Quidditch team except Draco could never remember her name struggled into the office, each holding a person, Ronald Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and some bright eyed, blonde Ravenclaw who Draco could not remember ever seeing before in his life. Warrington said something to Umbridge, but Draco's heart was pounding so fast he couldn't hear him. Umbridge's loud, screeching voice broke through, "Good, good!" She announced gleefully, "Looks like Hogwards will be free of its Weasleys soon!"

Draco heard that with no change of expression, until he saw Gregory looking at him quizzically and he laughed. The laugh was far too late and enormously hollow. Umbridge gave him a glare, but her attention returned to Harry.

She tugged his hair, pulling him upward, and Harry let out a cry. She let him go, sitting triumphantly on her pink chair, smiling down at them all with her wide, toad-like mouth. "So," Umbridge said calmly, "So, you stationed lookouts all around my office and sent _that_," she gestured to Ron and Draco didn't forget to laugh, "to tell me a lie about the poltergeist. Clearly, you were using my office to talk to someone. Was it Dumbledore, or Sirius Black? Or perhaps you were talking to that half-giant oaf Hagrid? Hm?" She grinned, "Oh, or was it Professor McGonagall? She's still to ill from trying to save that Hagrid too talk to anyone, you must have been disappointed."

Vincent, Vestle, and Warrington laughed. Draco laughed after a moments hesitation, but Gregory was still trying to figure out what was funny.

Harry snapped something at Umbridge that Draco forgot to hear, he was occupied instead by trying his best to look smug while checking Harry's scalp with his eyes. Harry hadn't been hurt that badly by the toad-woman, had he-

"Draco," Umbridge said Draco's name and called his wandering thoughts back to rapt attention, "Go get Professor Snape."

Draco nodded, stuffing Harry's wand in his pocket because he had nothing better to do with it. As he turned to walk out, Granger attempted to trip him, and Draco had to rein himself in to _not_ curse her. He gave one look at Harry before he left, but Harry was looking somewhere else.

Shutting the door behind him, Draco began to breathe hard and the impassive face he'd worn inside faded to one of fear. Professor Snape was a Death Eater. Draco could not bring Severus Snape into the office when Umbridge was that furious.

Umbridge was a devil of a woman, equal in entirety to Narcissa Malfoy. She would hurt Harry, and as much as Draco had liked Professor Snape in the past, he couldn't let him hurt Harry. It was bad enough that Draco had been forced to watch as Umbridge had practically ripped the hairs out of Harry's head, Draco was not about to do more.

Suddenly Draco let out a small cry. He _had_ to get Professor Snape for Umbridge, or Umbridge would not favor him anymore and if Professor Snape knew that Draco had refused to deliver an important message from the Headmaster than Professor Snape would forgo the privilege he had given Draco of using the school's ingredient stores whenever Draco wanted it. How else was Draco supposed to make Nausea Potion, or any of the other things he _knew_ he would need in the months coming? Magical pregnancies were delicate, the child could die without the proper care, even if it was so young already, barely a month.

Draco closed his eyes. Pain adorned his features. What was he supposed to do know? Choose between Harry and Harry's baby?

Draco bit his lip. Harry could take care of himself and Draco couldn't right now. Harry would understand.

And Draco rushed to the dungeons like a ghoul was after him to get Professor Snape.

He found Professor Snape in the ingredient stores, searching through heart string. "Umbridge wants to see you," Draco told him.

"_Headmistress_ Umbridge." Professor Snape corrected, placing a rather heavy red jar back on a shelf. "What for?"

"She... She's got some troublemakers in her office." Draco said, "Ha... Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley-"

"I understand." Professor Snape stepped gingerly off of a ladder. "Let's hurry, we can't keep our ignominious Headmistress waiting, can we?"

Draco didn't mention that he almost did that.

Professor Snape walked at a leisurely pace up to Umbridge's office, despite Draco's attempts to get him to move faster. They were even stopped once by a student, roaming alone through the halls, carrying a book out of the library and Professor Snape had to take the time to inform her to return the book at once or else five points would be taken from Hufflepuff.

Finally, they approached the office, and Draco held the door open for Professor Snape who entered and observed the chaotic scene against the ill-fitting background of pink wallpaper with complete and utter indifference.

"You sent for me?" Professor Snape asked in monotone.

"Yes," Umbridge gave another toad-like grin.

Draco changed a quick glance at Harry and they caught each others eyes. Harry's expression said absolutely nothing, and Draco could not afford to give Harry a reassuring smile with the room crowded as it was.

"...Veritaserum, and quickly."

Draco and Harry snapped back to attention. "What?" Harry exclaimed.

"You took my last bottle to interrogate Potter; you didn't use it all, surely?" Professor Snape chided, "Three drops would have sufficed."

Umbridge turned almost as pink as her office, but she said in her sickly sweet girlish voice, "Make more then."

Professor Snape's lip curled. "Give me a month; it takes a full moon cycle to prepare." Umbridge gave out several more indignant squawks and Professor Snape met them all with cool indifference.

"You are going on probation!" Umbridge screeched when she'd had enough, but Professor Snape merely raised his eyebrows. "You are being purposely useless! And to think that Lucius Malfoy thinks highly of you!" Draco's nerves jumped triple-fold at the sound of his father's name. "Get out of my office this instant!"

Professor Snape gave a short bow, turning to leave. Draco stepped aside to let him, grateful that nothing had gone poorly when he heard Harry shout, "He's got Padfoot! He's got Padfoot in the place where it's hidden."

Professor Snape froze.

"What? What does that mean?" Umbridge demanded. "What's a Padfoot?"

Draco stared at Harry, bemused, and Harry returned his gaze, until recognition flooded into Draco's face. _The Marauder's Map,_ Draco thought, _Wormtail, Moony, Padfoot, and Prongs. One of those was Harry's father... and Professor Snape mentioned that one time that James Potter was friends with... the were-wolf... Lupin... that one who died... and... Sirius Black! _His eyes widened considerably. _Sirius Black? Who has Black? And why is Harry trying to..._

"I have no idea," Snape was saying, "Loosen your hold, Crabbe, before Longbottom suffocates." He left the office. Vincent loosened his hold and Longbottom gasped for air.

Umbridge was mumbling to herself, shifting weight around her feet. Draco himself reached for his wand, watching her movement carefully. "I have no choice... it's a matter of Ministry security... after all... any jury would see that... yes..." She was talking herself into something, and she managed. "You leave me no choice, Potter," Umbridge said with a burst of confidence.

Draco watched her carefully, frowning.

"The Cruciatus Curse." Umbridge announced, pulling her wand out of her pocket.

Draco lifted his wand out of his robes gingerly, pointing it at her from his side.

"No!" Granger screamed, "Professor, that's illegal!"

Umbridge was descending on Harry, the look of a predator on her face, a look Draco had seen many times on the face of Narcissa Malfoy. She was a devil-woman, just like his father's wife.

"The Ministry would never want you to break the law!" Granger cried pitifully.

"Oh," Umbridge dismissed, "They'll never know." She was panting slightly, her hands shaking with anticipation. Her wand hovered over different parts of Harry's body, looking for the most painful place, and Draco's knuckles were clenched white around his wand.

Harry caught Draco's gaze and gave Draco the slight shake of his head. _Don't._ Harry's eyes pleaded.

"_I_ sent Demetors to Potter this summer and Cornelius had no idea, but he was delighted by it all the same." Umbridge said, her voice oozing with sweetness by this point.

_ Dementors? Harry?_ Draco thought. His free hand slipped into his pocket, finding Harry's wand.

"You?" Harry gasped, "YOU sent the dementors?"

"Somebody was going to anyway, it might as well as been me." Umbridge found the perfect place to use the Cruciatus Curse, Harry's scarred forehead. "They all wanted to... we all talked about it... I was the only one who _did _something... But you managed to get out... trial and all..." Umbridge grinned, toad-like features expanding on her face.

She took a deep breath and so did Draco, raising the wands slightly. "_Cr-_"

"PROTEGO!" Draco shouted.

The force of the doubly-charmed shield slammed into Umbridge, knocking the squat woman off of her feet. She tumbled onto the ground, sliding, her back hitting the wall with a sickening crunch. Unconscious, the woman who induced such terror into all of those present looked harmless as a light cut on her eyebrow trickled blood down her nose.

"Wow," Draco said, suddenly feeling incredibly impressed with himself, "That worked."

There was a moment of long silence.

"DRACO?" Vincent shouted.

"MALFOY?" Ronald Weasley joined Vincent in chorus.

Draco completely blanked on what to say, he stood there, with the two wands in his hands, until Harry jumped up from his place on the floor and snatched his wand out of Draco's hand.

"Thank you, Malfoy," Harry said, pretending to be confused, "I wouldn't have ever guessed..." He left the opening purposely and Draco found that his mind was working again.

"That woman has been a devil since she came here," Draco announced, concentrating on staring at each of the shocked Slytherins in turn, "She made us bleed for detentions, she destroyed any fun Quidditch might have had, I know we're all sick of her rules, but frankly, the Cruciatus Curse is a bit farther than I was comfortable letting her go."

"But..." Warrington frowned, letting Weasley out of his grip, "She wasn't bad at all to us Slytherins."

"That's only because we're the House with all of the future politicians," Draco explained. "Come on, let them go," he indicated to the Gryffindors. Vincent, Gregory, and Millicent did so immediately; Vestrel and the sixth year hesitated but did so as well.

"Umbridge was a horrendous toad of a woman," the sixth year said, not looking at Ginny Weasley who was trying to get blood circulating again in her wrists, "I failed DADA this year 'cause of her."

Gregory nodded, "My dad's gunna feed me to the dragon when he sees my Defense O.W.L."

"Oh," Granger said, "Well, we're sorry. Thank you." She said this to everyone but Millicent Bulstrode, who she was watching carefully out of the corner of her eye.

"So..." Weasley began awkwardly but didn't finish, letting the word trail out there.

Draco crossed his arms, "Considering I'm going to have detention for the rest of the year because I assaulted the Headmistress, perhaps you would like to explain _why_ you idiots decided to use Umbridge's fireplace?"

"Uh..." Granger said inarticulately.

"I had to check on something very important," Harry told them, "I couldn't let them monitor it."

"And... how did that go?" Ron asked, staring a bit at the Slytherins in the room.

"I was right," Harry told them, "He's not there."

Draco raised an eyebrow. Seeing the Gryffindors and the Ravenclaw girl's secretive expression, he cleared his throat, gaining the attention of everyone in the room. "The Gryffindors are discussing some top-secret, Potter-related information, for the sake of saying that we knew nothing about it when Potter's convoluted plan fails miserably, I think all of us Slytherins should go join the end-of-exams festivities and pretend this never happened."

All of the Slytherins agreed whole-heartedly, especially as Umbridge had chosen all of them but Draco for brawn, rather than brains. "What about the Headmistress?" Millicent chanced to ask, "Should I get Madame Pompfrey?"

Draco just shrugged.

Vincent and Gregory were among the first to leave, having heard about some special treacle tart that Zabini had found in Romania and was getting for tonight, and all of the others filing out, none of them, except the sixth-year on the Quidditch team, paused to give this room a second glance.

Weasley frowned at Draco, "Aren't you leaving?"

"Me? Why would I leave?" Draco asked.

"Because of what you just said to them!" Granger reminded him.

Draco shook his head, "That was for them. _I _at least want to know what you're up to before I tell you you're all mad."

"Why would we tell _you_?" Weasley demanded, stepping in front of Draco so they were just a foot apart, his hand dangerously on his wand. Draco's hand instinctively went to his stomach, a futile gesture which would do nothing if it came up against a wand. "You'll probably run off and tell your father!"

"You _will_ tell me." Draco snapped, and he glared at everyone in the room. "The Death Eaters _are_ setting a trap for Ha... Harry Potter, so unless you all feel like rushing into whatever this is blindly you can explain what you're doing."

"Of course _you_ know something, but we can't trust you." Granger growled.

"Yes, you can, I want the Dark Lord six-feet-under just as much of all of you, that my parents don't has nothing to do with it." Draco frowned.

The girl Weasley crossed her arms. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree," she quipped.

"It does if the tree's on a hill," Draco informed her contemptuously.

"Stop it," Harry said, quieting all of them. He asked Draco, "What do you know about this trap?"

"Not much, except my father's leading it and the Death Eaters are very, very convinced that it'll work." Draco told them.

Granger nodded to Harry, "_See?_ All the more reason not to do anything."

"This _isn't_ the same," Harry argued, "Sirius Black is being tortured as we speak! Kreacher practically _told_ me he was there! We HAVE to save him!"

'Sirius Black?' Neville mouthed in confusion.

"Alright," Ron said, rubbing his hands together as he thought. "So, we stun Malfoy, and then how do we get to the Department of Mysteries?"

"Hey!" Draco protested. "I _saved_ Harry from that toad!"

Granger nodded, admitting, "It was much more convenient than what I was going to do."

"Fine," the girl Weasley pointed her wand level to Draco's face, "I'll just do the Bat-Bogey Hex."

Draco raised a shield immediately.

"HEY! NO ONE IS ATTACKING MALFOY!" Harry shouted. He rubbed his scar, face twisting as it pained him.

The silence which followed was awkward and long, until the blonde Ravenclaw interrupted. In a whimsical tone she said, "We'll have to fly."

"Fly?" Neville asked, frightened.

She nodded, "To get to the Department of Mysteries." Then, she walked up to Draco, extending her hand. "I don't think we've met, I'm Luna Lovegood."

"Draco Malfoy," Draco said, taking her hand.

Luna looked pointedly at the girl Weasley, "I don't understand what you're all so upset about, he seems fine to me." The girl Weasley glared at her until she let go of Draco's hand. "Anyway," she smiled, "You smell like mint."

Draco stared at her in complete and utter confusion.

"Okay, look," Harry said, "I'll get my Firebolt and then I'll fly, the rest of you should-"

"Good luck getting the broom," Draco drawled, "Umbridge has a troll guarding it in the dungeons."

"Then... I'll fly a school broom," Harry said, "And I'll-"

"We can't fly the school brooms, not all of us are good flyers and they'd be locked now anyway." The girl Weasley reminded him.

Harry frowned. "First," he said furiously, "_we_ are not doing anything, and second, Ron has a broom that I could-"

"_I _have a broom too," the girl Weasley reminded him, "So does Malfoy."

"Well, neither of you are coming." Weasley said to his sister.

The girl Weasley grew angry, her jaw clenching, "_I _care about Sirius too!"

"May I interrupt?" Draco asked, and then, not waiting for an answer, continued, "I'm sure Longbottom and I would both like to know why everyone is risking their necks for a serial killer."

"_You're_ not risking anything," Harry demanded.

Draco immediately flushed at the sight of Harry protecting him. It was incredible, certain proof that Harry cared, yet it was over far too quickly.

"And... Sirius Black is _not _a killer, he didn't kill anyone, and he's my... my godfather." Harry told them. Neville let out a gasp but Draco's face, despite the red tint, stayed impassive.

"But wasn't D.A. _about _this? To help the cause?" The girl Weasley reminded Harry.

"Yes, but-"

"We want to help, it's why we all joined D.A. in the first place," Neville Longbottom told him, "This is the first chance we have to do something _real_- or was everything you told us just talk?"

"No, but-"

"I want to help." Longbottom declared.

"Me too." Luna Lovegood said whimsically.

"And you can't stop me from helping either." The girl Weasley said, chin up in the air defiantly.

Draco didn't say anything.

Harry's eyes flickered to Draco's and something like hurt crossed them due to Draco's silence, but he looked away quickly to match glances with Weasley and Granger.

"It doesn't matter," Harry said, "Because we don't know how to get there anyway. Sirius could be dead by now and all we've done is stand here and argue!"

"I thought we were going to fly?" Luna wondered.

"We don't have brooms!" Weasley shouted. "What are we going to do? Ride Kaky-Horned Korklacks or whatever?"

Luna frowned, "But... there are other ways than that to fly. The Crumple-Horned Snorkak can't, but other magical creatures..."

"Like what?" Granger pressed.

They all stood in silence for a bit. Draco watched this all with a raised eyebrow before he said, "Just ride the bloody school theastrals."

"Yes!" Harry said, his face lighting up. "That's brilliant!"

Weasley frowned with repulsion, "Those things you can only see if you saw someone snuff it?"

"We only need three," Granger nodded.

"Four!" The girl Weasley declared.

Luna Lovegood counted. "Actually, there are seven of us here."

Draco backed up, raising his arms in a gesture of surrender. "No, no way, I am _not _breaking into the Ministry, _especially _if this is a trap and my father is there. Do you have any _idea_ what he would do to me?"

"Take away your three-hundred galleon allowance?" Weasley offered with lip curled in contempt.

"Wait." Granger said, staring at Draco. "It might be a good idea to take him."

"WHAT?" The two Weasleys cried at once.

"If it _does_ turn out to be a trap, we could use Malfoy as a bargaining chip. Lucius Malfoy would never sacrifice his own son, right?" Granger said.

"Um... _yes_!" Draco informed them, "If _his_ life was on the line he wouldn't think _twice_ before killing me!"

"You're just being melodramatic," Weasley frowned, pointing his wand at Draco to prevent him from escaping. "Hermione's right, we should bring him, but if we tie him up we'll still only need three theastrals."

"No! Four!" The girl Weasley shouted.

"_Six..._" Luna Lovegood corrected.

"I don't have time to argue!" Harry shouted, "Sirius could be dying so EVERYONE LISTEN TO ME!"

They did.

"If Malfoy doesn't want to come then we're NOT dragging him as a hostage with us, Ginny, Neville, and Luna can come if they want but they HAVE to promise to obey EVERY order I give them WITHOUT question, understand?"

Granger nodded, crossing her arms and giving a glare to Draco. "I honestly think we should take Malfoy."

Harry turned around quickly, facing Draco. "Do you want to come?" He asked.

Harry's gaze was hopeful and Draco knew why. This was the perfect moment where Draco could be redeemed in the eyes of Harry's friends. Danger was the essence of Harry. This moment was how Harry lived, saving others and fighting the Dark Lord; and he wanted Draco to join them.

How could Harry ask that of Draco? How could he tell Draco to do this? Draco couldn't fight for Harry, not if their child might be in danger from it. Why didn't Harry ever think of the baby? Didn't he want Draco to protect it? The baby meant everything to Draco, only a month of having it and Draco already knew that, so how could Harry ask Draco to risk the baby's precious life?

Draco couldn't. And he couldn't fool himself either. This wasn't half as much about the baby as it was Draco's fear of confronting his father or... Bellatrix Lestrange. He shook his head. "No," Draco said.

Harry's hopeful face fell.

"Good," Weasley announced, "If he just wants to sit here like a bloody Slytherin arse while someone is dying, let him. It's Malfoy after all." He opened the door, "Hurry, we don't have a lot of time to find the theastrals."

"Accio," Grange reminded Weasley, "It won't take much time at all."

"But they're invisible, how do we know if we've found one?"

Draco crossed his arms, holding himself. The others left, running away, and the last one to the door was Harry.

Harry looked at Draco, his face still questioning.

"No," Draco said. The disappointment on Harry's face was more than Draco could bear. Harry left quickly, a swish of his robes indicating that he and the others had left on their quest, going to save Sirius Black.

Draco sat down, buried his head in his hands, and cried.

...

**This is your review reminder. Review, pweez?**


	6. Chapter 6

**Omigosh. Don't watch Junjo Romantica on your period... fangirling with tears and screaming... **

…

When Draco had dried his tears, he stood up. He knew he had to act fast, Millicent would likely becoming back soon with Madame Pompfrey. He grabbed the powder from a vase over the fireplace and tossed it into the fire. "Malfoy Manor," he whispered, casting a glance at the still form of Umbridge. The shock couldn't have killed her, but she had yet to move except for a single groan.

Draco stuck his head in the fire, seeing the library in his home with weary, uncaring eyes. "Hello?" Draco called out, eyes traveling over the bookshelves adorning the walls, the three solitary couches, lonely in the center of the room except for a single table. Someone was sitting on one of the couched, their back turned to the fireplace.

"Yes?" A voice Draco most certainly did not want to hear answered. Narcissa Malfoy stood up, holding her book carefully in her one hand. Delicately, she took her diamond crested reading glasses and folded them on the table. She was immaculate as ever. Her black and white hair was curled into thousands of ringlets, her plain black robes fitted on her with all of the grave of an evening gown, and over her hair and on her hands she wore a matching black lace that rested upon her with the mournful grace of a widower. Narcissa, seeing Draco, looked away from the firepit, staring instead at a wall, her beautifully arranged face, clear of any blemish, wrinkled as if she smelled something foul. "Nelda," Narcissa called to a house elf, "Bring the dousing water for the fireplace."

"Is father gone?" Draco asked, "The plan, with Harry Potter, it's tonight, isn't it?"

Narcissa still didn't look at him, crossing her arms, long, manicured fingernails gently laying themselves on her arms. "Do you wear a Dark Mark?" Narcissa Malfoy asked, "Are you a Death Eater? Why should you be privileged to such information, Draco?"

"Because you're a Death Eater," Draco said calmly, despite loathing the woman before him with ever fiber of his being, "And so is my father, and my mother."

"Perhaps, but you mean nothing." Narcissa told him, "Even if everyone you knew was a Death Eater it would not change a thing." She walked as if she were gliding on the floor, still looking away from Draco but coming closer so that she would not need to project her voice. "We talk of Mudbloods and blood traitors as being born as low creatures, but should not bastards be purged as well?"

"My blood is noble." Draco reminded her.

Narcissa growled, "Your _blood_ is stolen." The closer she grew to Draco the more disgust her face showed. "Leave, I will not inform you that which you do not need to know."

"Answer me just one thing," Draco asked. "Is father home?"

Narcissa walked away from him, the soft, pearled silk slippers she wore making no sound on the cold stone of the manor. "No," she said, "now go and leave me in peace, I should not have to suffer your wretched presence before the bleak heat of summer. My husband opens his doors to you, his bastard son, out of nothing less than _pity_ for your lowly existence."

Draco fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Thank you, Narcissa," he nodded to her. _This was a charming visit. _He pulled himself out of the fire, glad to see the library of his home fade away.

Moments after he did so, when the fire had died down, Millicent Bulstrode stormed in the room, followed by Madame Pompfrey.

"Here she is," Millicent said, "I told you, she was hurt."

"Yes, yes," Madame Pompfrey dismissed her with a wave of her hand and Millicent, grateful, left the room without so much as a glance at Umbridge. "Mr. Malfoy," Madame Pompfrey greeted, nodding at him, "Thank you for staying to keep our Headmistress safe while Millicent went to get me."

Draco's brow furrowed in confusion until he saw Madame Pompfrey give him a knowing wink.

"Now, run along," Madame Pompfrey said, "I'm sure there's something else you could be doing tonight, considering all the festivities."

Draco didn't pause to even ask her if she thought Umbridge would be alright, he rushed out of the door.

Although he searched for them, calling out for the theastrals, desperate to warn them that he had been right, that they were walking into a trap, Draco knew at the beginning he was too late. The theastrals were gone, along with them Harry. With nothing else to do, Draco sat on the steps of Hogwarts and waited.

Filch came by to shut the doors and he saw Draco. With numerous curses and threats to kill him, Filch walked Draco to the Slytherin dormitories. Draco entered the dormitories and sat on an armchair by the fire until a Prefect, waking up to perform his duties for the day, spotted Draco. He forced Draco into his room where Draco lay down on his bed, determined to continue waiting. But Draco was exhausted and he fell asleep, still in his clothes.

0

Draco ran into Harry very early the morning after the next. They were both used to getting up early to meet each other every day, and so neither was very tired, but the shock of seeing the other, walking around a mostly abandoned hallway on the sixth floor, jolted them awake even more.

"Harry," Draco said.

"Draco." Harry nodded.

His eyes were rather red, his hair was messed up as if he hadn't been sleeping, and his clothes were more ragged than usual, his robes trailing dust and in desperate need of ironing.

"You look terrible," Draco said with a smile.

Harry seemed to have forgotten that that was how he had once greeted Draco, he frowned at Draco in shock. "Thanks," he snapped.

"How are you?" Draco asked, reaching out to place his hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry stepped away from Draco's touch. "I heard... something about the Ministry of Magic, there are rumors that everyone saw the Dark Lord there, that you fought him."

"It was a trap," Harry told him. "Sirius wasn't there, at least not until he came to protect me."

Draco nodded, frowning at how stiff and awkward Harry was acting. "Did anyone get hurt?" He asked.

"Ron," Harry told him, "and Ginny, and Neville, and a lot of members of the Order too. Sirius..." Harry choked on the words, staring at the roof to prevent tears from falling. "Sirius is dead."

"Harry, I'm so sorry," Draco told him. He would have lunged forward, wrapping Harry in his protective arms, showered Harry with kisses until he brought a smile to his face, Draco wanted to hold him, wanted to touch him, and wanted so badly to comfort Harry. He didn't, because Draco knew that Harry did not want him to. "What about anyone else?"

Harry's brow frowned, but he didn't understand what Draco was asking. "Dumbledore was there, he's fine. He's in his office now, I think."

"Right. What happened?" Draco asked nervously.

Harry's own thoughts were so jumbled that it was hard for him to unscramble them. "It was a trap, I had to get a prophecy and then... the Death Eaters were there, Lucius Malfoy, he..." Harry trailed off, staring at Draco.

"What happened?" Draco pressed.

"There was a battle," Harry told him, disbelieving that such incredible events could be summed up in such simple words. "We fought, people got hurt. It was just the six of us against Death Eaters for a while but then the Order came, Sirius was with them... Tonks... and..." Harry choked again. He gulped, taking a long moment to organize his thoughts before he continued. "I fought Luci... your father for the prophecy, everyone fought for the prophecy. It was all a trick by Voldemort, he wanted to get his hands on it."

"What prophecy?" Draco asked. "Where is it now?"

A suspicious glint crossed over Harry's face but he answered, "It was destroyed." Then he continued, "Bellatrix Lestrange fought Sirius, and then she killed him."

Draco's heart skipped a beat. "Is she alright? Was she hurt?"

Harry's eyes widened. "_WHAT_?" He shouted.

Draco stepped backward, seeing fury in Harry's eyes, a hatred directed straight toward him. "I... I..." he stuttered.

"Say it again!" Harry demanded.

Draco consented, "I asked if she was alright?"

"Who?" He snapped.

"Bellatrix Lestrange," Draco told him. "I asked if Bellatrix Lestrange had been hurt."

"WHY?" Harry shouted, "Because she's your AUNT? She KILLED SIRIUS! She KILLED my godfather!"

"I... I'm sorry," Draco said, reaching out for Harry again. His long fingers only brushed Harry's hand when Harry jumped back like he'd been burned. He jumped back like Draco was something loathsome.

"She's a murderess, remember?" Harry reminded her. "She's a demon! She tortured Neville's parents into insanity! She's the Dark Lord's most trusted Death Eater! She's-"

"My mother." Draco interrupted.

Harry recoiled in shock. "What?" he whispered.

"Bellatrix Lestrange is my mother, Harry," Draco told him quietly. "Lucius Malfoy is my father, and Bellatrix Lestrange is my mother."

"But that can't..." Harry said, backing away from him.

"I've never met her. She was in Azkaban when I was born, Lucius took me away to raise in Malfoy Manor. I checked my birth certificate; it's in the official record. They don't keep children in Azkaban and they don't allow visitors either, I never got to meet her." Draco said.

Harry frowned at him, suspicion wrinkling his features. "You lied to me."

"No, I didn't."

"You did, you kept that secret." Harry said. Realization dawned on him. "You probably keep a lot of secrets, don't you? I don't even know a thing about you, do I? I don't know how you grew up, I don't know why you played the bully during school... bloody hell, I don't even know your favorite color, do I?" He'd already backed away from Draco, but he took a few more steps away.

"It's green." Draco told Harry, even as he watched the distance between them grow with ever increasing horror.

"You didn't say a thing about the plot to me earlier; you kept that a secret too." Harry remembered, "Kreacher told. Kreacher was the reason I did all this, and he was doing it all on orders from Narcissa Malfoy, your... your..."

"My father's wife," Draco corrected.

"What are you?" Harry asked indignantly. "The son of the Dark Lord's two favorite Death Eaters? Were you some kind of perfect little Death Eater child? Made and groomed to make my life a living hell?"

"No-" Draco protested vainly but Harry wasn't done.

"This was planned, wasn't it? This entire thing was staged. Voldemort told you I liked you, didn't he? He wanted you to... to _seduce_ me!" Harry's lip curled in disgust. "This was all a part of the plot, wasn't it? YOU WERE THE ONE WHO TOLD US HOW TO GET TO THE MINISTRY!"

Draco was speechless, he had nothing to say. His hands drifted to his stomach, wrapping his arms around him as if from there he could keep himself from being torn and shredded into millions of pieces.

"Leave me alone!" Harry shouted, fists clenched white, every part of him shaking in fury. "I never want to see you again! You're a MONSTER! I HATE YOU!"

Harry's robes cracked as he spun around and Draco flinched at the sound. The stone floor echoed the racing pace of Harry's footsteps as he ran away, fading quickly out of sight. Harry was gone, leaving Draco alone.

Draco stared after him, unable to breathe. The hands around his stomach tightened.

1

Harry tried not to feel broken inside. He had lost everything, he'd been humiliated, Sirius was dead and Draco was a fraud. He was fifteen years old, he'd already lost any parent figure he had ever had, and he'd lost his viriginity to a cold hearted bastard working for the Dark Lord.

Ron and Hermione didn't guess what was wrong and he didn't tell them. Harry had never kept secrets from them before, but grief was too fresh in his mind and he could barely even bring himself to say 'good morning' to Ron as he lay in the hospital wing, his face and arms bandaged. He didn't tell them about the prophecy and he certainly, especially now, could not tell them about Malfoy.

'I told you so', that's what Hermione would say, although they'd both be incredibly sympathetic. He was their mate after all, their friend, they'd survived five close encounters with death now, and Harry'd survived more than one close encounter with Death Eaters. Their friendship would survive Harry's stupidity. Harry had fallen into the trap of a handsome-faced, perfect liar and it was entirely his fault for doing that. If he had opened up to them earlier they would have seen it, Ron would have just offered warnings and warnings and Hermione would have found something to prove that Malfoy was lying. Malfoy would never love him, Harry was an idiot to think so.

The only small consolation to Harry was the fact that Malfoy's father was in prison. And his mother, his _mother_ was BELLATRIX LESTRANGE! Harry wished them all luck, they were all disgusting, _filthy_ people and he certainly hoped that when Draco met her they would get along just fine. Birds of a feather.

Ron and Hermione left the hospital week three days before the end of term.

The thought of going back home sickened Harry. He knew he would miss Hogwarts, like he always did, but more than that he remembered what he had promised Malfoy. Harry had whispered promises in Malfoy's ear to see the light smile creep over Malfoy's face. The smile was more than likely a smirk; Malfoy laughing at him.

Luna's oddness was the only thing that really comforted Harry. But, the time of a few weeks was a comfort as well.

He found himself walking on the train, looking for a compartment with Ron and Hermione, with far less dread than he's imagined.

What made it better was that a number of Slytherins, Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, and some other Slytherin Harry didn't know, decided that now was a perfect opportunity to strike, with no teachers nearby. Unfortunately for them, they could not have chosen a worse place to do so. Terry Boot, Anthony Goldstein, Justin Finch-Fetchley, Susan Bones, Hannah Abbott, and Ernie Macmillian, all members of the D.A., were there and by the time all of their spells had cleared, the four Slytherin resembled nothing less than four slugs jammed into Hogwarts uniforms with ungainly wigs on their heads. Harry helped Justin, Ernie, and Anthony squeeze them onto a luggage rack and just left them there, covered and dripping in slime. It would have been better if Malfoy was there to be turned into a giant slug, but Harry hadn't seen him.

Harry sat in his compartment with Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Neville. Cho walked by at one point, glancing sadly into the compartment, but Harry didn't even notice her until Neville pointed it out and mentioned something about having thought Harry and her were dating.

"She's dating Michael Corner," Ginny told him.

"Weren't you dating him?" Hermione asked. Ginny replied something about Corner not liking the results of the Ravenclaw-Gryffindor Quidditch match.

Ron caught Harry's eye. 'The bloke?' Ron mouthed.

Harry shook his head. Ron had out his chess set and so Harry moved a pawn forward.

Chess was a lot like how Voldemort worked, Harry realized. Voldemort was setting up all of his pawns, using them to destroy the Ministry, cripple Dumbledore, and he was also after Harry. That was all Sirius' death and Malfoy's seduction meant in the grand scheme of things. Harry was at war, and he needed to be careful.

Ron easily took Harry's pawn and the indignant chesspiece shouted out a curse.

0

Draco Malfoy was dead. He couldn't find an empty compartment or even Vincent and Gregory to sit with, and so, because he hadn't been able to talk more than four words in the last few days, he sat down beside his bag on the luggage cart, settled down for a long, uncomfortable ride. Draco didn't care when the luggage, juggling around, hit him in the back or the knee, bruising him. All he wanted was for the ride to Kings Cross never to end, he couldn't bear it.

Tears fell, but the tears for self-pity had faded away along time ago. Draco cried for strange things now. He cried for Harry once, sorry that Harry had to live through the death of his godfather, he cried for his father, locked away in Azkaban, he cried for his baby, and he cried over and over again for absolutely nothing at all. A piece of toast, reminding him of Harry, had the power to move him to tears, as did anyone else's red eyes, or different, abstract thoughts which came to Draco's head.

Draco Malfoy prayed, although he never would have admitted that to anyone and he certainly did not want anyone to see him. He didn't know who he was praying to, perhaps luck. He just wished he could sell all of his possessions, everything he'd ever owned, for a bottle of Felix Felicious. He wouldn't use it to make Harry love him, Draco just wanted Harry to remember what he'd promised. Harry promised to take care of him, besides, Harry was a Gryffindor. Gryffindors were noble and chivalrous, and everyone had called Harry the 'Golden Gryffindor' before now as they called him the 'Chosen One'. But Draco knew that Harry wasn't going to save him, Draco had ruined that.

Draco knew it was his fault; he was the one who took advantage of Harry. He never should have asked Harry about his mother, he should have just kept lying. He didn't think Harry would ever... but he should have. Draco would have done the same thing.

No, Draco _wouldn't _have done the same thing, not to the one carrying his child. But Harry wasn't Draco, Harry had... responsibilities. Harry had to save everyone from the Dark Lord. If Harry wanted to shag Draco, knock him up, and then leave him for the Dark Lord to torture and kill... Harry could.

Draco was shattering apart.

The train stopped and Draco knew that it was the end of the trip; they were at Kings Cross Station. With the air of an Inferi, he sat up, moving to the compartment car before the luggage car was opened and someone found him sitting there.

He waited by one of the doors, ignoring all of the people saying their last goodbyes, and he waited for the loud whistle which would announce that the doors were safe to open. The whistle sounded, and Draco was first to leave the train.

He was overtaken though by the ones who rushed out behind them, making their way to the luggage cart Draco had just abandoned before running off to greet family and say another last goodbye to friends before the next year. Draco moved stiffly away from the luggage cart, dragging his suitcase. He had thrown out the majority of his things because he found that he couldn't carry everything that he had carried last year.

Bezielna, a house elf, was behind him immediately, and she took Draco's suitcase from his hands, shuffling her way out of Kings Cross, to the car which would be waiting outside. She had a Notice-Not Charm on her, but it was still rather risky of Narcissa to bring her along.

Draco spotted Narcissa, waiting impatiently by one of the doors. Grief had made her grimmer, but she was as immaculate as ever, lovely as death. His father used to say that. Sometimes. When he talked about Bellatrix, and how Lucius had returned to Narcissa with his son and Narcissa's nephew.

That terrible betrayal was why Narcissa loathed Draco, even when he was a child. Draco dreaded being at her mercy and pregnant by the enemy of the Dark Lord.

Harry Potter was only a few yards away, surrounded by some people. They were Aurors, or members of the Order, Draco knew that, all but the young Weasleys and Granger, along with two ordinary looking people who were most certainly Granger's parents and three, strange, bitter looking people who Draco had heard of often enough from Harry to recognize as Harry's Muggle relatives.

Mad-Eye Moody was threatening the largest and the fattest of Harry's relatives and Harry, glancing around for a moment, found his gaze settling on Draco.

_ Please, Harry._ Draco pleaded, _Oh Merlin, Harry, PLEASE! Not Narcissa, don't leave me to Narcissa, she'll find out in less than a week and she'll turn me in to the Dark Lord. He'll kill me. Harry! I need-_

Harry frowned and he looked away, turning his back on Draco with no further acknowledgment.

Draco's chest ached. He watched everyone crowding around Harry until he was almost out of view. Harry broke from them, waving goodbye to the crowd gathered there, shouting with a smile that he would see them all soon. His Muggle relatives, sour faced and slightly pale, left, and Harry followed them, rolling his suitcase behind him. He was beyond the door in a moment, out of Draco's sight.

Harry broke his promise.

Terror, having built up in Draco ever since Harry had told him he hated him, now unleashed itself and Draco found himself shaking. It was as if he'd plunged headfirst into a frozen lake and come out of the water only to discover that the lake was warmer than it was outside. Of everything and anything that had ever happened to him, any sorrows or suffering Draco had faced before in his life, nothing compared to the pain he felt now.

_ I love you, Harry Potter._ Draco thought, an all-encompassing fear suppressing any tears that might have come to his eyes.

He had nowhere else to go, so Draco walked to Narcissa.

...

**This is your review reminder. Review, pweez?**


	7. Chapter 7

**Welcome part two. It was going to be later. But I'm bored.**

** You're either going to hate me or freakin' love me for this...**

** I'd love to hear your thoughts. You know. More reviews. More motivation. Etc. :)**

** Tell me if you like it. And whatnot. **

** You're not even reading this, are you?**

** Blah blah blah blah panic at the disco blah blah I love doctor who blah dirty work blah blah blah misaki usagi blah blah in love with edward elric blah blah no one cares blah blah just did finals blah barely studied blah still passed dont hate me blah blah tumblr is heaven blah blah blah blah...**

…

PART TWO

Draco was eating cereal. It was some healthy brand, because despite how much he'd preferred to just eat chocolate all day and how much he craved marshmallows, Draco was eating healthy to take care of himself.

It was June.

Narcissa knew although Draco hadn't begun to show. Draco was certain that he shouldn't be now, the baby was only around three months old, but magical pregnancies were much different from ordinary Muggle pregnancies. It could take as little as six months and the baby would come, perfectly healthy in every way, or it could take as many as ten months to a year. Draco was even certain that somewhere he had heard of a woman who was pregnant, with a single child, for fifteen months.

Narcissa did not make it easy for him. She had once, when Draco was nine, been pregnant but the baby had been stillborn. It was this which she reminded Draco of every day, laughing at him for having a bastard child when he was a bastard. Narcissa thought of the child as disgusting, which was at least above how she thought of Draco. Almost every day she would tell Draco to be merciful and take a poison potion, kill the child inside of him if it wasn't already stillborn.

Males, when they were pregnant, just were not as suited for it was women were. The baby could easily choke on its umbilical cord, be crushed because it didn't have enough room, or die because it was allergic to some food and Draco didn't have the sense a woman would have to know not to eat it.

Narcissa was very good at terrifying Draco. Draco never thought he could fear the woman more than he did when he was a child.

Constant worry on the part of the mother was not good for the baby, but Draco couldn't help it. Almost every hour he would touch his stomach, perform a detection spell to make sure the baby was still alive. He would panic after he ate any new food, anything the child might be allergic too, he would panic when he walked outside, forced to leave the home by Narcissa.

She would send him out to get 'fresh air' whenever she knew a storm was coming and she would lock the door. Draco would sit, curled up in the broom shed which was in desperate need of a new roof, and rock himself gently as the storm raged around him and he shivered with his robes soaking wet. Draco learned nursery rhymes which no one had sung to him when he was a child and he sang them then, with a halting, shivering, choking voice, to comfort his child and to remind himself why it was that he was so miserable.

He began to forget what it was like to be without a constant fever.

The house elves didn't help very much. They all knew and firmly believed that Draco's existence was an insult to the manor which they had lived in and served for countless generations. They would prepare hot showers, wash Draco's clothes, give him whatever meal he wanted, and obey any direct order, but the house elves had never liked Draco. A few of them, the three who worked with Narcissa, would spit into their hands when Draco walked by and the two who worked with Lucius would wrinkle their noses in revulsion and frown.

The others, the four who cleaned the house and fed the peacocks, made the meals and basically took care of everything, would snort or frown or even, occasionally, snicker when they saw Draco or they did something stupid. Narcissa was _Lady_ Malfoy and Lucius was _Master _Malfoy, but Draco wasn't even referred to by name. Draco was _He_. _He _walked by or _He_ needs breakfast or _He _is sick. Recently, almost all of the house elves had taken to downright laughing when they saw Draco. _He_ got himself pregnant.

Draco had lived through terrible summers before, his third year at Hogwarts he'd come home and hadn't seen anyone except the elves for a month, but this was easily the worst.

He spent almost every day in the worst of occupations, thinking. Draco had books to read but his concentration faded in seconds, he could ride his broom but all he saw was the boundaries of his own home and the escape that provided soon turned into a reminder of the prison he was in. Every moment he had when Narcissa wasn't near Draco spent thinking.

At first he thought about how much he hated Narcissa, but the thrills of thinking about her screaming as she was lowered into a cauldron of boiling stinging potion faded away very quickly. Draco thought for a while about his father, desperate to get word to him. If Lucius were here he would at least be sympathetic to Draco, he'd stop Narcissa from locking Draco outside when it rained, perhaps he'd bring something, a game, a book, a new bed spread, but anything to make Draco more comfortable so Lucius didn't have to see him, until he found out who the father of Draco's child was. Narcissa hadn't found out yet because she took far too much delight in asking Draco if it was a Mudblood. Draco couldn't contact his father, not by letter anyway, and he was sure that if Death Eaters in Azkaban hadn't been allowed visitors before war broke out, they wouldn't now.

Then he thought about Harry and his mood lowered considerably. It hurt; every time Draco would think about Harry. No matter how hard Draco thought about the good memories, of Harry showing him the Marauder's Map and the Invisibility Cloak or when Harry would sneak Draco into the Gryffindor dormitories and they'd spend the night together, the last sentence Harry said to him always echoed behind it like a Dementor, lurking over all good memories. I hate you.

The only thing Draco could think of, that was at least slightly safe, was the baby. If Draco never saw the Dark Lord, if he survived the summer, he could run away from Hogwarts by Hogsmeade. He would avoid all of the Snatchers by living in the wild or running to France or Scotland. Draco would have the child in the wilderness and raise the baby, alone.

How strange to think of the life inside him; Draco found he could barely breathe as he thought of the baby growing up, attending Hogwarts, being a Gryffindor like his father. A child of two splendid Seekers, he would be a Seeker in his first year. He would shock everyone. He'd be brilliant, just like Draco, and the only thing which would rival his skill at Quidditch would be his gift for Potions. He'd be handsome too, Draco could practically see him when he thought about him. All of the girls and the boys would swoon over him and he'd have the pick of any of them he wanted. And he would marry a nice girl or boy from a good, wealthy family, and they would have four kids, each to go on to be just as wonderful and spectacular as their father. Unless the baby turned out to be a girl, in which case she would wait a bit longer and would, obviously, marry the future Minister of Magic.

The names were hard to choose. Draco didn't want to name the child without Harry, but since Harry wanted nothing to do with either of them anymore he couldn't think of any other way for it. Harry would have wanted to name them, and since '_Harry_' was such a plain, Muggle name he would probably give them equally plain, Muggle names.

If it was a boy, Harry would probably ask to choose the first name. Draco, growing up surrounded by pure-bloods, didn't know many Muggle names, and he wrote all of the ones he knew down on a piece of parchment and narrowed it down to the two, plainest but nicest names he thought Harry would choose, 'Adam' and 'John'. After lengthy thought, Draco settled for Adam as the first name. Harry would have been chivalrous then, and would let the middle name go to Draco. Draco had always wanted to name a child 'Scorpius', like the constellation, and he chose that without hesitation. The child would be Adam Scorpius Potter, except Harry wanted nothing to do with Draco anymore, so the child would have to be a Malfoy, Adam Scorpius Malfoy.

If it was a girl, because Harry chose the other first name, he would have let Draco choose. A girl was a much harder name, because Draco had never thought about having a girl before and he had already given 'Scorpius' to the boy. 'Nymphadora' was his grandmother's name, and Draco almost chose that until he remembered that his aunt who'd married a Mudblood had used that for her daughter. He thought for a long time, and it took him three days before he settled on a different family name, 'Mayflower'. It took Draco two minutes to guess which name Harry would choose for the girl, 'Lily', after Harry's mother. The daughter should have been Mayflower Lily Potter, but Mayflower Lily Malfoy sounded nice enough anyway.

Draco was not good at acting cheerful. He liked to have an enemy, something tangible in front of him which he could hate and he was so used to hating Harry Potter that he didn't know what to do now that every time he thought about Harry tears came to his eyes. Draco had been given more than enough time to get over Harry, to move on with his life, but it was like nothing had changed since the moment Harry had shouted at him.

Draco tried to take up a hobby. When he'd been little and filled with boredom, alone in the island which was the Malfoy Manor except for when his father arranged for a visit from Vincent and Gregory, Draco had learned numerous hobbies. First, because he hated the fact that whenever he wandered into the front lawn his father's peacocks would bite and nip at him, Draco became an expert on almost everything to do with peacocks. He couldn't learn everything there was to know about peacocks anymore because he already knew it, and after taking care of the peacocks, feeding them, grooming them, and checking up on them for almost five years Draco was bored with the colorful birds. When he tried peacocks again he was filled with boredom in only a few hours.

Next he thought he would organize his father's study and make sure all of the Dark artifacts were safe in the numerous hiding places and alcoves but Narcissa spotted him inside and screamed at Draco for twenty minutes. She instructed the house elves to lock the study and threatened Draco that if he attempted to go in the study again she would personally dismember him and force feed him a potion to kill the baby. Draco avoided the entire second floor like the plague after that.

Draco tried his hand at cooking and found that he liked it, but the job was done entirely by house elves in his home and, not wanting to practically gift-wrap another excuse for Narcissa to insult him, he stopped that entirely.

He tried writing a book, but reading books were too difficult for him and Draco could barely even place the pen to the paper until he thought about writing about Harry. The parchment grew sixteen feet long and was a long, mournful epitome of how much Draco loved Harry despite everything that Harry had done to him; it only took one glance at what he had written for Draco to burn the parchment in utter disgust.

Draco had no idea what to do with his time, until one day in July he was eating cereal and it started to rain.

Narcissa was also sitting at the table, eating her breakfast which was much more elegant than Draco's. "Can you fetch something for me outside?" Narcissa asked him.

It was a poorly veiled command. She wanted him outside so she could lock the door and he could be forced, again, to suffer in the rain.

"No," Draco took a bite of the cereal. Just thinking about the cold made him wrap his robes around him and shiver.

"I _am _your benefactor," Narcissa reminded him, "You had better do what I say or I have the right to punish you."

Draco's eyes were dark circles and his face was paler than it had ever been. He glared at her, for the irony of what she said, and snapped, "Let a house elf get it."

Narcissa chuckled. "And what if it got a cold? Then where would we be? Another house elf would have to care for it and the cold may even spread."

Draco frowned. "My being sick doesn't matter, obviously?"

"Now, Draco, bastards are much more resilient than they appear, aren't they?" Narcissa eyed him carefully, running over his bones, sticking out against his skin, his deathly white pallor, the dark circles which made him look like a ghost, and she smiled. "Lucius isn't here to protect you, so you _must _listen to my advice," she said as if she were informing him with shirt to where or how he was meant to properly fold his napkin, "Go fetch me one of the roses."

"From the other end of the field?" Draco sighed, "Well, you'll have ample time to lock all of the windows by then." The last time Narcissa had tried this Draco had discovered that the window in the kitchens was open and he'd crawled inside before the house elves could lock it.

"Go," she told him. "And if you get stuck again," Draco snorted at this but Narcissa continued speaking, "take your time, it's not raining very hard."

0

Draco was drenched, but that was an understatement. The rain was so thick he could barely see a meter in front of himself and he was soaked completely through. If he had his wand he could have performed a spell to dry himself, but it had been upstairs and Narcissa had ordered a house elf to shoo Draco out the back. So, due to the risk of getting bitten on the wrist by an angry house elf trying to fulfill a command, Draco let himself leave the house without any possible help.

The yard in the back contained a small garden near the house which bloomed beautifully in the spring, appeared dismal in the summer, faded in the fall, and gave a frightening, gloomy cast to the yard in the winter. Beyond that was the broom shed and the peacocks hutch, after which was a long, empty field which was lovely for outdoor parties when there wasn't a war going on. Against the giant hedge, which lined all of the property of the Malfoy Manor which wasn't a treacherous forest that discouraged anyone from coming near uninvited, were bushes. In the front, they sprouted black leaves and on the sides they were bushes with tiny yellow flowers on every surface that bloomed three seasons of the year, but against the back hedge, far away from the house, were the white and red roses.

Draco knew that even if the rain stopped he wouldn't be allowed inside unless he had fetched Narcissa a rose, so, his arms wrapped protectively around his stomach; he trudged through the quickly accumulating mud, walking blindly toward the other side of the lawn. It seemed to take an eternity as he walked, his shoes making a sloshing sound with each step he took. In this rain it was far more like wading through a mire than walking to the back of the lawn, but Draco crossed it.

In case Narcissa would be picky about whether she wanted a red or a white rose, Draco took two, stuffing them in his robe's pocket. Turning around, he squinted through the rain to try to see Malfoy Manor and it was still to thick. Guessing, Draco trudged in one direction, but after a long time walking there found himself facing one of the yellow bushes. Taking a better educated chance, he picked a new direction and was relieved when, after a long struggle, he found himself face to face with the broom shed.

There was no use going back to the manor, the doors and windows would be locked and Draco would only be making himself more miserable. He shuffled to the door of the broom shed and tried to pull it open. The door resisted, much stronger than a rusty, old broom shed door should, and Draco realized immediately that it was locked by magic.

Draco cursed, Narcissa apparently had been watching him the last times she'd locked him out. The next best bet was to try and fit in the peacocks hutch, but Draco didn't fancy the idea of being stuck for hours in a smelly room with twenty or so peacocks angry at the weather. But it was better than staying out in the rain, and Draco _did_ have to take care of himself.

He closed his eyes, trying to remember where the peacocks hutch would be at this angle.

"You there, servant, why will the doors not open?" An arrogant voice called out. A spell was shouted and the rain around Draco suddenly began to slid around him, freeing him entirely from becoming even more drenched than he was. Draco turned, staring at the person before him.

She was a woman, near enough to Draco to speak but keeping her distance. Her black hair, curled and long, was tossed about her head, thrown in a wild manner, and she wore a long, elegant black dress which was tattered about her heels and on her shoulders. Her nails were manicured and yet ripped on the tips, and her face was white, her eyes were dark and shadowed, her lips, the only color, were a stark red. "Well?" She said, tossing her head up with airs equal to Narcissa, "Speak."

"Narcissa locked them all," Draco told her, gulping for a moment.

She held up her hand with her left hand and the tattered ribbons which were her sleeves fell down, revealing the Dark Mark casually against her skin. She held the wand up equal to Draco's forehead. "Who are you that you speak of her so casually?" She demanded.

"Dr... Draco Malfoy." He told her. "My... my father is m... married..." He was trembling, freezing from the cold rain which clung to his skin.

Her lips curled in a pout and her eyes shone with a pity dully masked by a permanent look of insanity. "Poor thing, she wanted you to get all soaked, didn't she?" She let out a sad clicking noise with her tongue. With a single, swift movement she was next to Draco and she wrapped her arms around Draco's neck, pulling his head against her shoulder because she was taller than him. "Well, Reginte and I will break down the door and then I'll get you all warmed up."

Draco tried to push her away but despite her seemingly delicate frame she was incredibly strong. "Who are you?" He demanded.

She smacked her lips and smiled, pulling him away to take a long look at him. "I'm Bella," she said.

Draco's eyes widened and he stared at her, taking in her eccentric appearance again. "Bella... trix Lestrange?" He whispered.

"Aw, sweetheart," Bellatrix took Draco, wrapping his drenched body in her arms, holding him tight against her with a strong embrace. "Call me Mum, right? Right. 'Course you will, I'm your mummy, aren't I?" She kissed his cheek, "Let's break down the door and warm you up, come on?" She took his hand, leading him through the rain.

Draco saw the insanity in her eyes, the blood lust in her features, the Dark Mark on her arm, and he knew that she was far more than he had expected. For some reason, Bellatrix cared for him. She was the only one. Draco, in that moment, loved her for it.

0

Draco lay in a hot bath, dry clothes lain across a chair. He was so cold, so sore, that he didn't care that Bellatrix Lestrange was there. How could he?

Her torn dress lay around her, tatters covering the stone floor like a delicate lace. She sat beside the bath, a hot washcloth in her hand and she pressed it to Draco's cheek and forehead until some color returned to his face. Putting the towel aside, Bellatrix rested her head against the white porcelain bathtub. "Tell me about yourself," she said, watching Draco's face carefully, "How old are you?"

"Fifteen," Draco told her, "Sixteen next month." He gave her a small grin. Lucius would never have allowed any pleasant expression to cross Draco's face but Bellatrix Lestrange gave him a quick smile before it faded back into seriousness.

"Ah, I remember," Bellatrix said. She reached out with her hand and, with a torn fingernail, drew circles in the water. "Best decision I ever made."

Draco's brow furrowed in disbelief. "_I _was?"

"'Course you were. Rudolphus never gave me a son, just a Squib, but you... I saw each and every one of your school reports, I read what the teachers said, I got the reports when you won your Quidditch games I poured over them as soon as I got out of Azkaban," she nodded as she spoke, "You, Draco, are _perfect_."

Draco smiled brightly at her before his grin faded. Anxiously, his hand traveled to his stomach.

Bellatrix noticed. With no change in expression she asked, "There a baby?" Draco nodded. Bellatrix's torn fingernails reached up. She grabbed Draco's cheek, gently tugging on it in a loving gesture. "You are sweet, aren't you?" She crooned, "Mummy and a grandmummy in one day? Boy or a girl?"

"I don't know," Draco told her, "Its too early." He couldn't help but grin at her. Draco's instincts were reminding him of everything he'd been told, of how Bellatrix had tortured the Longbottoms to insanity, that she'd killed hundreds of Muggles, that she was the Dark Lord's most trusted Death Eater, feared across nations and continents, and she was fueled with an insatiable blood lust. Draco could not help but ignore his instincts. Bellatrix, his mother, was all he had hoped for, accepting, loving, and his spirit soared with every word of praise.

Bellatrix's hands rested on the porcelain bowl and she placed her head on top of them, "No, no Draco, it's very easy to tell. You're past a week, aren't you?"

Draco nodded.

Bellatrix slapped the porcelain, creating a loud cracking noise, and she stood up. "You're warm, aren't you? You had your tea?" She didn't wait for Draco to respond. "Come on, stand up," she reached her hand down and helped Draco stand.

She stepped back from Draco for a moment, thinking, before she remembered, "Towel." Humming slightly to herself, Bellatrix glided over to the cabinet, opening the door with exaggerated care. "Blue?" She asked Draco, "Green, or Black?"

"Green," Draco said.

Bellatrix gently tossed him a green towel and Draco dried himself off quickly. Blushing, Draco grasped at the pile of clothes but had only succeeded in pulling on a pair of black trousers when Bellatrix came up to him.

She had her wand in hand and she mumbled an incantation Draco couldn't hear, holding the wand to Draco's stomach. "Give it a moment," Bellatrix informed him, "If it's black it's a boy, if it's white it's a girl."

Draco's breath caught as he watched the wand with a fixed fascination. It took only ten seconds, the wand tip lighting up to glow. Draco's eyes widened and his hand flew to his stomach.

"A boy," Bellatrix told him, stuffing her wand in her dress. "A grandson, what are you calling him?"

"Adam," Draco told her.

"_Adam_?" Bellatrix's nose wrinkled in disdain. "Why not something normal?" She clicked her tongue and, taking Draco's hand, said, "You're still very young, perhaps _I _should name him."

"No," Draco pulled his hand out of hers, "It's Adam Scorpius Malfoy."

Bellatrix smiled when Draco backed away from her and then she nodded. "Yes, Scorpius Adam Malfoy, correct?" She didn't give Draco time to answer, "Scorpius, lovely ring to it, just the name for a granson." With her wand she spelled the clothes to fly into Draco's arms, "Now, get changed, out great Dark Lord wishes to see you."

Draco dropped the clothes in his hands, suddenly shaking with terror. "H... he does?" Draco stammered.

Bellatrix nodded, features glowing with joy. "Ever since I was free of Azkaban I begged the Dark Lord for this, for a chance to let you work for him. He agreed only yesterday and I've come to bring you to Spain."

"Sp... Spain?"

"Yes, the Dark Lord and his loyal servants, including me, are staying at a castle in Spain until the end of the week. I'm certain he is going to give you a Dark Mark." Bellatrix smiled, pulling Draco toward her again in a strong embrace. "It's wonderful isn't it? Truly wonderful, he wanted to see you as soon as March fourth but certain difficulties prevented him."

Draco gulped. March fourth was the day Harry Potter first kissed him. The Dark Lord _knew_, he knew all about him and Harry and he probably... knew about Adam too.

Bellatrix handed Draco the clothing, helping him change because Draco's hands were shaking with terror.

0

_ Don't kill me. _Draco pleaded into empty air. _Please, don't kill me. _

Bellatrix had left his side, going to fetch the Dark Lord, the mother who gave him life gleefully coming to destroy it. Draco sat, tense and frightened, on the armchair she had told him to sit on. For a castle, it was rather devoid of decoration, a knight in armour was on the other side of the room, a few tapestries hung on the walls, and a number of couches and armchairs circled a rug, all of the facing a large fireplace which was blazing with flame.

Draco's hands clenched and unclenched on the chair, pulling at the fabric. Rigid, pale, he waited for the Dark Lord to come and he pleaded with nothing because he knew nothing would save him. "_Please_ don't kill me," Draco whispered.

Draco heard the tapping of Bellatrix's shoes, and he knew the Dark Lord was coming. He sat up in the armchair, sitting on the edge because Bellatrix had told him to sit there, and he debated whether or not he should stand to greet the Dark Lord but he was too late when he saw his mother, serious and frightening, holding up her tattered skirt with the gracefulness of a dancer, give him a grin as she entered the room.

Behind her was Lord Voldemort. He was tall, his form hidden under a flowing black robe. His hands, long and thin, were gently at his sides, in one a long, black wand that radiated power. His face was angular and as pale as a ghost, his eyes black and slitted. The hood was down, his head revealed, and when the Dark Lord grinned at Draco it was a smile with sharpened teeth, a smile that promised death and pain. "Leave us," Lord Voldemort said, his voice quiet.

Bellatrix Lestrange left the room, taking no pause to glance at Draco again. As she went out, the large wooden door closed behind her without a single noise. The locks on the doors turned, making sure that no one else would enter.

"Draco Abraxas Malfoy." Lord Voldemort nodded. He walked, not with a glide, but with a sliding motion Draco could only compare to that of a snake. "Do you know how valuable you are? And you were given to me, delivered straight into my waiting arms." A frighting grin slid onto his face as he neared Draco.

Once close enough, he ordered Draco to stand and Draco complied immediately, his hands flying to his stomach instinctively.

"Yes," Lord Voldemort whispered, slitted eyes flickering to Draco's stomach. "Harry Potter's child."

Draco dropped to the floor, head on the ground. He grabbed the end Lord Voldemort's robes, holding them with wonderful care. "Please, my lord," Draco cried, "Please don't kill me."

"I have no intention of doing to." Lord Voldemort merely gave the slightest motion of his wand and Draco, disoriented, found himself slamming with his back into the stone wall. Draco groaned as he fell to the floor. "Why kill you when you are of much more value alive?" Lord Voldemort approached him again, kneeling on the floor so that when Draco looked up they were only inches apart, the Dark Lord's wand dangling precariously from his fingers. "But what is your use?

"You are the child of Bellatrix Lestrange, my most faithful servant," Lord Voldemort told him, "You are the only child of Death Eaters with intelligence currently enrolled in Hogwarts, you carry the child of my enemy, and Harry Potter loves you."

"Love_d_." Draco corrected but then froze at his brashness.

"Perhaps," Lord Voldemort said, "but I know Harry Potter. I know him very well." A long finger tapped his veined white forehead with a smirk, "We are connected, did you know that, Draco Abraxas Malfoy?"

Draco shook his head.

Lord Voldemort tilted his head slightly, eyes blinking several times as he examined Draco. "The only problem is that you love Harry Potter, isn't it?"

"No," Draco answered quickly.

"I do not appreciate those who lie to me." Lord Voldemort said. "_Crucio_."

Draco screamed. His lungs, every inch of him, felt as if it was on fire. Burning, tearing him apart, the pain clawed everywhere, no inch of his body safe from this blinding, horrible pain. He twisted where he lay trying to rid himself of the all-encompassing agony.

His jaw cracked from his screaming, and even in his suffering he lunged out at Lord Voldemort, missing entirely. Wretched, wretched pain from his fingertips to his toes and everywhere else. Draco didn't trust his fingers, grasping at the stone below him, to hold his stomach. Contorting himself, he pulled at his clothes, not hearing a tear as fabric ripped apart from his pained grasp.

Tears flooded to his eyes as he tried to curl himself into a ball, to protect the child. He could barely think straight as the pain flooded over him, lighting every inch, breaking his soul apart as it held, longer and longer, Lord Voldemort's unfeeling gaze analyzing Draco's every movement. As Draco screamed, pressed against the wall, he watched the Dark Lord's wand unrelenting.

It was only as the tears trailed rivets in Draco's cheeks and as he gasped for air to cry out in agony did the Dark Lord mutter the counter-curse and pulled back his wand.

"You will answer me truthfully, such pain cannot be beneficial to a pregnancy, can it?" Lord Voldemort said.

Draco nodded, his jaw still clenched to a painful point. He unraveled himself, moaning with pain as he felt the self afflicted bruises. His fingers curled, circulating blood back through his body.

Lord Voldemort pushed a lock of hair out of Draco's face with his wand, watching the terrified look on Draco's face with cold indifference. "Do you love Harry Potter, Draco Abraxas Malfoy?"

Draco's voice cracked as he answered, "Yes."

"Do you love the little baby more?" Lord Voldemort asked him, curiosity awakening in him at the thought of his enemies greatest weapon, love.

"I don't know," Draco whispered, his throat cringing with pain as he spoke.

Lord Voldemort's hand, pale and slender, froze over Draco's face. "There was a time when I wouldn't be able to touch you," the Dark Lord told him, "but I have conquered that. Lily Potter's love saved Harry Potter, but Harry's love can do nothing for you, can it? Lily Potter sacrificed herself for him, but he left you to me." Lord Voldemort touched Draco's cheek, his long fingers cold on Draco's feverish skin.

"Harry doesn't love me," Draco whispered with his hoarse voice, "you're wrong."

"_I_ am not wrong." Lord Voldemort said quietly. His wand flicked and Draco found himself up against the wall, suspended in the air. He struggled for a moment but an invisible force pressed down on him, so powerful that Draco struggled for air. Lord Voldemort surveyed Draco's stomach, a cold finger feeling through Draco's robes. "What is the gender of Harry Potter's child?"

"A boy," Draco gasped out, struggling to breathe, his lungs crying for air.

"Ah, a boy-child, firstborn, I would expect nothing less. Harry Potter certainly presents himself well," Lord Voldemort smirked. His wand flickered again.

Draco fell to the ground, his hands and knees catching his fall, wheezing for air. The sudden onslaught of air released to his lungs disoriented him for a long moment, and his eyes were glazed as he stared up at the Dark Lord.

Lord Voldemort chuckled at Draco, turning to face the fire, "Tell me, did _you_ ever guess that Harry would give you to me without the slightest of struggle?"

"Stop saying that!" Draco demanded, pulling himself to his feet, his fists clenching. "Harry didn't _give _me to you-"

"_He sent you to my Death Eaters without even a hint of regret_!" Lord Voldemort hissed. Slowly, he slid forward toward Draco until they were a mere foot apart. "You _told_ him what would happen if you went home with those memories and still Harry let you go, throwing you away from him like a scrap of rubbish. Like trash," the Dark Lord whispered, "Did he ever even say it to your face?"

Draco knew his mind was open to Lord Voldemort, that he was being read like a book and his memories used against him, but everything the Dark Lord said rang true. "He called me a monster," Draco said, his voice catching in his throat.

"And _what_ did you do to Harry?" Lord Voldemort asked, his eyes dark and cruel. "You loved him, and you'd never loved anything before. You tore apart from your friends, you hid from your father, and you let him have you. _Didn't you_?"

Draco could barely answer.

"And," the Dark Lord's voice swelled with repulsion, "You _helped _him with his _O.W.L._s. You _saved_ him from Umbridge, but Harry wanted _more_ from you, didn't he?"

Draco nodded.

"He wanted _you_ to follow him like a blind sheep, headlong into the Department of Mysteries. He wanted_ you_ to defy your father to his _face_! He wanted _you _to _disgrace_ your family, when you had worked your entire _life_ to prove yourself as more than a _bastard_, as someone _worthy _of the Malfoy name." The Dark Lord's voice softened, "And what did Harry do for you but use you until your usefulness wore out, and then he threw you to his enemies." He reached out, using a finger to push Draco's face upward until they were staring into each others eyes. "And do you still love him?"

Draco quailed under the slitted eyes which almost gazed into his soul. Hesitating, stammering, he replied, "I h... I hate him."

Lord Voldemort didn't seem surprised. "Draco Abraxas Malfoy, son of Death Eaters, will you join your father and your mother by my side? We will destroy the Muggle infestation that plagues our dear Earth, we will crush all those who oppose us, we will introduce a world of peace, justice, liberty, and free-wizardry to all of the continents, and in return," the Dark Lord placed a hand to Draco's stomach, "I will spare the life of your son, fathered by a half-blood who dared to defy me. I will protect you from those who would hurt you, and I will avenge what has been wronged. And you will serve me until the day you die as my faithful, loyal, Death Eater."

He didn't hesitate. "I will," Draco said.

"Kneel," Lord Voldemort ordered and Draco complied. "Give me your left forearm." Draco did so. "Pledge," Lord Voldemort ordered.

Draco knew the words by heart, he'd been taught to repeat them since he was a child. "I, Draco Abraxas Malfoy, do pledge to serve you, my great Dark Lord. I am your humble servant, to command and to..." His voice stumbled but he continued bravely, "...and to obey you. I shall follow your every word; I shall not slander your name or your word. Your cause is mine. I am your Death Eater, my honorable and noble Lord."

"Well said," Lord Voldemort nodded. He pressed his wand deep into Draco's skin, ink surging from where it lay.

The curious thing was that Draco could feel no pain. It was as if nothing was happening until the Dark Lord let go of Draco's arm and it fell to his side. The Dark Mark, the same as Draco had seen on almost every adult he'd known, shone out against his pale skin, burned forever onto Draco's forearm. Draco stared at it, unsure how he felt. The mother he'd only just met and the father who never cared for him would both be joyous. Fifteen years old, the youngest Death Eater of all.

It was just now that Draco realized what the train had truly met. When Harry turned away from him so did that side of the war. When Harry turned away from him he had left Draco no choice but to turn to the Dark Lord.

"I have a job for you," Lord Voldemort whispered. Draco looked up, meeting the Dark Lord's gaze. "It requires you to go back to Hogwarts." Lord Voldemort's eyes flashed with mirth, "as my assassin."

...

**This is your review reminder. Review, pweez?**


	8. Chapter 8

** Sup? How ya been?**

…

"Remember all that I have taught you," Bellatrix whispered into Draco's ear, holding him tightly in her embrace. The fireplace in the library was ready; Draco's robes bought from afar and sent only a day ago. Concealment Charms laced in the school robes would keep Draco's bulging stomach from being noticed, and there would always be a Death Eater, at number nineteen and a half, in Hogsmeade for his emergency contact.

Bellatrix had taught him everything Draco needed to know about killing Albus Dumbledore. He could perform a successful killing curse, knew which poisons were stocked in the potions supplies and which were grown in the greenhouses, he knew a number of powerful spells which, though not the _Avada Kedavra,_ could easily substitute, depending on whether Draco would prefer to hang Dumbledore by invisible cords or blast him to pieces. Draco was going back to Hogwarts fully prepared to become a murderer.

He already had a plan of his own, one which he had only shared with Bellatrix. The Vanishing Cabinet, the matching pair, in Borgin and Burkes and in the Room of Requirement, he only had to figure out how to use it.

Education was going to be much harder this year, despite the note Draco had received congratulating him on achieving entirely 'Outstandings' or 'Exceeds Expectations' on his O.W.L.s. Much harder, after all, Draco was only going back to kill someone while being very pregnant.

A house elf would escort Draco to Kings Cross Station. It would be too dangerous for Bellatrix to go.

Bellatrix took his head in her arms, pulling it against her shoulder so they were locked in a tight embrace. "See you on Christmas." Letting Draco go, she turned around. Swiftly, she glided across the room until she reached the door and she exited without looking back.

Draco took a deep breath before stepping into the fireplace, "Kings Cross Station."

The fire whirled about him disorienting Draco as it always did. He waited for a few moments until the red hot of the fire disappeared, replaced by the hustle noise of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

He stepped out, almost in shock at what he saw.

Everyone, young, old, were greeting each other again, smiles on the faces of all but the mothers of first year students who wept while their children looked around anxiously. The crowd and the noise was in stark contrast to the quiet of Malfoy Manor and a palace in Arabia, where he had spent his summer with his mother. The only thing which equaled this was the market place in Arabia, but, carried over top, Draco had not been personally down at that level. This was the population of Hogwarts, stuffed in a train, ready to be transported to a small place in the mountains of Ireland.

The house elf, carrying Draco's suit case and a bag of his, shuffled to the luggage cart, freeing Draco to find a seat on the train. Draco had to find a compartment; he couldn't risk traveling in the luggage cart like he had on his way home from Hogwarts. His eyes searched through the crowd before they landed on a welcome sight, Vincent was coming from the luggage cart.

It was Vincent who spotted Draco, and despite the fact Draco had abandoned him and Gregory last year he walked up to Draco, greeting him with a smile and an extended hand. "Good to see you again," Vincent said stiffly. He looked around awkwardly at everyone, and leaning forward, asked in a hushed tone, "Did you really have a private audience with the Dark Lord this summer?"

Draco frowned, "Why would you say that?"

"My father told me," Vincent replied.

"Yes, I did," Draco whispered carefully, "He gave me a task to do this year, but I'll need some people to help me."

"I'll help!" Vincent offered gladly, not realizing that Draco had been hugely hinting that he would. "Gregory too!"

"Fine, just keep your voice down," Draco hissed.

Vincent nodded although he didn't quite understand. "Gregory and I already got a compartment, we were waiting for you."

_ Faithful until the point of ridiculousness. _Draco thought and he smiled. His friends. His Slytherin friends. Everything was going to be alright. Draco's hand glided to his stomach, a nervous habit.

Vincent led him to the train, knocking aside a third year who was in his way. Draco had his foot on the steps, entered the train, and was turning to the left when he stopped. Harry Potter was walking down the train, headed for a compartment on Draco's right, and Draco caught his gaze. Draco's breath froze in his throat, Harry's presence resurfaced terrible memories. Cruciatus. Dark Lord. I hate you.

Harry's face twisted in anger. "_Malfoy_," he spat like a curse.

Vincent didn't say anything, waiting for Draco to reply with a comment.

Draco smirked, contemptuously he drawled, "I'm surprised _you_ made it back. From the way you carried on I thought you would fail the exams."

Harry glared at him, the reminder of the happier time between them a painful memory. He turned away, continuing his path down the train without a word. Draco watched him, his tongue burning from the shame of what he had said. If he had said nothing though, what would that have proven to Harry; only that Draco was as weak as Harry had thought him to be. Draco's fists clenched. He was stronger than Harry thought. He'd survived torture at the hand of the Dark Lord and lessons with Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Stomach ache?" Vincent asked, breaking Draco's reverie.

Draco's hand had slid to his stomach and he pulled it away immediately. "Where's the compartment?" He asked.

Vincent, without a word, led him down the train in the opposite direction as Harry.

1

Harry's cheeks burned with embarrassment but he still turned around, watching Malfoy following Crabbe as Crabbe shoved aside a gaggle of second years. They entered a compartment, the third on the left of the cart, and Harry couldn't help but make a note of that. Seeing Malfoy brought it all back, the way he'd used Harry's love, twisting it around and toying with it until Harry, enchanted like a spell, walked straight into Voldemort's trap.

Harry had mulled on it all summer. The Dursleys now thought of him as chronically depressed. Last year he'd spent summer that way, waking up every night with painful memories, the only difference was that now Harry woke up in the middle of the night _aroused_ from memories of someone he was sure he hated. But he didn't hate him, as much as it pained Harry to admit it. He was still in love with Draco Malfoy.

"You alright mate? You look like you've seen a ghost," Ron asked, snickering at the expression. He'd heard Hermione use it over the summer and since then he'd delighted in saying it whenever the opportunity allowed because he thought it was so ridiculous.

Harry, fervently tired of the expression, rolled his eyes. "See you at Hogwarts," he told Ron, "Have fun in the Prefect compartment."

Ron's nose wrinkled in distaste. "Yeah... riiiight. I have to ride back with some snotty Ravenclaws and Nott and Malfoy, thanks."

_ I certainly wouldn't mind_... Harry began to think but he crushed the thought. "I'll be with Neville and Luna."

"Tell them Hermione and I said 'hi'," Ron said, moving to walk to the front compartment.

Harry found the compartment with Neville inside and sat down, eyeing the strange cactus on Neville's lap with suspicion. "It's a mimblus minuertia," Neville told him with excitement, "It's really rare!"

"Is it going to explode?" Harry wondered.

Neville shrugged, "It might, so I just have to be careful not to touch it."

Luna entered almost immediately after that, her head buried in the latest, upside-down edition of the Quibbler, and she put her bags up above without ever letting her eyes leave the page. "Hello Harry, hello Neville," Luna greeted them although Harry had no idea how she'd managed to see them with her head buried in the magazine.

"How was your summer?" Harry asked her politely.

"Purple," Luna replied. "Was yours as sad as you expected?"

Neville coughed into his hand, mumbling something to Luna about 'Not reminding him of Sirius'.

"It's fine," Harry assured them. "No, I had a good summer."

"Not me," Neville sighed, "My grandmum was going crazy about You-Know-Who, she barely even let me outside, I was couped up in the cat room for most of the summer and I'm allergic to cats."

"That must have been fun," Luna said whimsically. "I love turtles and I'm allergic to them."

Neville stared at her, taking a long moment to reacquaint himself with her oddness. Ginny entered the compartment in a rush, slamming the door shut behind her. "Are you okay?" Neville asked.

Ginny shook her head, catching her breath. "I saw Warrington and he was talking to a first-year about something and she was crying her eyes out and I'm certain he was saying something about her father dying in the war, but I caught him with a Bat Bogey Hex."

"What's wrong then?" Harry asked.

"I think a teacher saw!" Ginny told him. "If anyone comes in for me I'm hiding behind Neville and his cactus!" She put her bags on the shelf above the seat and settled in beside Harry.

Neville began to explain to them why the plant he was holding was not a cactus but Harry was very distracted.

Ginny's arm brushed against his, her hair flipped on her head so that it tickled his cheek, and she was much closer to him than she should be, considering the amount of space on the bench. Harry didn't find it unpleasant, Ginny was wearing a very nice perfume and he certainly liked her well enough. It was a wrongness that he felt, an incredible feeling of ill-at-ease that he didn't understand. Her proximity made him enormously uncomfortable, and Harry slid a few inches away from her almost without realizing he was doing it.

_ If it was Draco that close it would be different an-_ Harry halted his own thoughts, reminding himself, _Malfoy! MALFOY, not Draco! He's MALFOY and he's always been MALFOY!_

"Are you alright, Harry?" Luna asked him, "You look like a snickeract has your nose."

Harry nodded. Keeping the others from noticing his falter he asked, "What's a snickeract?"

Luna proceeded to tell them all about snickeracts, tiny little puff ball creatures that do their best to crawl inside your nose and lay eggs, making the people whose noses they crawled into have the perpetual feeling of having to sneeze but not being able to.

The trolley rolled by an hour after the train started and Harry purchased a few sweets for everyone, despite their protests, and they all ate it together until Neville and Harry got into a long chat about the cards on the chocolate frogs. Ginny, feeling left out, expertly steered the conversation to Quidditch which was lively and fun enough, she included Luna by promising her that the two of them would go riding on the school brooms together sometime and search for the bat-like whippperwubbble.

Colin Creevy slid open their compartment while Neville was asking Luna if nargles ever built nests in gardens. "Um..." he stammered, "Prof... Professor Slughorn wants to... to see Harry Potter and uh... Ginny W... Weasley and N... Neville Longbottom." He was blinking rapidly, as though he'd recently been confunded, and before telling them where to go he stumbled away to another section of the train.

"Who's Professor Slughorn?" Ginny asked.

"The new teacher," Harry told her, "Dumbledore took me with him to recruit him to the school."

1

The fading light and the lanterns on the train signified that the journey was coming to an end. As Harry, Neville, and Ginny exited Professor Slughorn's 'Slug Club' meeting, Harry saw Zabini out of the corner of his eye, walking behind him. While Neville bemoaned that he was certainly never going to be invited back to the 'Slug Club', Harry muttered a quick word of farewell and sprinted down the train. Running fast, it didn't take long until he reached their compartment, although he stumbled a few times as the cart shook around him.

"We're not allowed to run on the train," Luna reminded Harry as he pulled his bag down from the shelf. He rummaged through it, his hand snatching the Invisibility Cloak.

"Thank you, Luna," Harry gasped although he didn't know what she'd said. He tossed the cloak over him as he rushed out the door, a shadow for a moment until he disappeared entirely.

Neville and Ginny were walking with slightly confused looks on their faces, and Harry skirted quickly around them. Blaise Zabini had just reached his compartment and Harry's guess was confirmed as he realized it was the same as he'd seen Draco enter.

Zabini opened the door and Harry tried to jump in after him, but he didn't have enough time. Zabini started to shut the compartment door and Harry stuck out his foot to stop it.

"You're letting in a draft!" The high-pitched voice of Pansy Parkinson complained.

"Door's stuck," Zabini said. He opened the door, giving Harry just enough time to stumble inside before he slammed it. Triumphantly, Zabini turned around, bounding into the room and almost flying into Harry, who jumped back and fell against one of the seats. Zabini flopped down next to Parkinson, pressed against her, lips pursed as if to give her a kiss but she pushed him away in disgust.

"What did the teacher want with you anyway?" Parkinson asked.

Zabini shrugged, sprawling out on the seat, "Just to join some favorites club of his. Ridiculous though, Longbottom and that girl Weasley were there, including about three Hufflepuffs." He had yet to change into his school robes, but all the rest in the compartment were already dressed.

Harry, sliding off of the seat so that no one would notice the imprint he was making, could only crawl partially under the seat, the greater part of him sticking out, ready to be trodden on. He looked up at the people in the compartment and his breath caught in his throat. He was mere inches away from Draco Malfoy.

In Harry's opinion he couldn't think of a time when Malfoy looked better. Malfoy held himself with a regal confidence that befitted him. His long white hair was impeccably groomed, his eyebrows raised as he frowned incredulously at Zabini. His hands, long fingers, perfect nails, hands which had held Harry months ago were placed delicately over a copy of 'Hogwarts: A History'. His lips were curled into a contemptuous smirk and his eyes shone as he laughed at Zabini. "_Longbottom_? Why him?"

It didn't matter to Harry then that Malfoy was treating one of his friends with contempt. Draco Malfoy could have been insulting Harry's mother and he wouldn't have batted an eyelash.

Zabini shrugged. He frowned at Malfoy, "Aren't you supposed to be in the Prefect compartment?"

Malfoy shrugged, "What are they going to do? Fire me? I was there last year, I don't need to hear the same speech again."

He looked down at the book, barely managing to read a line before Crabbe, next to him, after being prodded by Goyle, asked him, "What did the Dark Lord say, when you talked to him?"

Harry's eyes narrowed. There it was, proof that Malfoy had been working for Voldemort, and it hurt him as much as it had when he'd first suspected it.

"I _never_ spoke to the Dark Lord," Malfoy said, exaggerating the words. He glanced at Zabini and Parkinson. "Will the two of you just snog each other so you can stop making this room so bloody awkward?"

The two of them, who'd grown slightly pale at the mention of the Dark Lord, seemed to welcome the opportunity given to them to change the subject, even if it meant an argument.

Parkinson crossed her arms. "_I _wouldn't snog Blaise if he was the last person on earth."

"I didn't _do _anything!" Blaise Zabini shouted incredulously.

"Exactly! YOU didn't send me a SINGLE LETTER ALL SUMMER!" Parkinson shouted. Crabbe and Goyle's attention soon shifted from Draco to the two quarreling love birds, the information they'd been pressing Malfoy for completely forgotten. Parkinson's voice screeched when she grew louder and Harry was tempted to cover his ears but he couldn't risk being seen.

Malfoy was the only one not bothered by this, he held up his copy of 'Hogwarts: A History' and continued to read.

"I _read_ the seven _you _sent, what more could you ask from me?" Zabini demanded.

"WRITE BACK!" Parkinson screamed.

"But it's _summer,_" Zabini whined, "I don't want to do work in the _summer_."

"You DO if you want to have a GIRLFRIEND!"

"I should have dated a bloke!" Zabini growled, "They're much lower maintenance!"

"Oh, riiight!" Parkinson rolled her eyes, "Like YOU would ever take the chance of getting your ARSE pounded into!"

Harry's gaze shifted to Malfoy, whose eyes had frozen on the page. His fingers twitched for a moment before Malfoy shook his head slightly as if to clear it. Pretending the hesitation had never happened; Malfoy flipped to a new chapter in the book and continued to read.

"So what if I'm straight! Maybe I should have dated a Ravenclaw!"

"AS if you could do BETTER than a HUFFLEPUFF!" Parkinson shouted.

Someone gingerly opened the compartment door, an awkward, hunched over seventh year, "We're a few minutes from Hogwarts, everyone needs to put on their school robes."

"GO AWAY!" Parkinson screamed at him, "I'M TRYING TO HAVE A CONVERTATION WITH MY BOYFRIEND!"

"Yes," Zabini exclaimed happily, "Still together."

Parkinson glared at him. "NOT FOR LONG IF YOU KEEP-"

Zabini interrupted, sitting up. "I have to change," he announced, pulling his bag from the shelf. He slid open the compartment door.

"I'm coming with you!" Parkinson jumped up from her seat.

Zabini frowned, "But I'm going to the toilet."

"I'M coming with YOU!" Parkinson demanded, stomping her foot. She grabbed her own bag from the shelf.

A slick grin came over Zabini's face. "You wanna snog me?" He asked hopefully.

"_I _want to MURDER YOU!" Parkinson corrected.

"But... Pansy, it's been three months..." Zabini argued as he left the compartment.

Pansy Parkinson slid the door shut behind her but they could still hear her indignant screech, "THREE MONTHS AND NO LETTERS!"

The only sound that could be heard after that was Malfoy turning a page in his book.

Devoid of any entertainment, charred Exploding Snap cards between them, Goyle picked them up, shuffling them into a deck and tossing them in a bag at his feet. Crabbe's fingers twitched for a moment in silence before he asked Goyle, "What do you suppose they'll have at the feast?"

Monotone, Malfoy answered for Goyle, "The same thing they have every year, Vincent."

Goyle licked his lips, "Turkey and pumpkin juice."

Malfoy rolled his eyes.

They could hear the breaks on the train beginning to work and Crabbe stood up, getting his and Malfoy's bag from the shelf. He handed Malfoy's bag to him and he nodded. "Thanks," Malfoy said.

Crabbe nodded again. There were candy wrappers, assorted magazines and even a torn school book around the place where he and Goyle had been sitting and he surveyed that area with the pained air of someone who knew they had to clean up but really didn't want to. Crabbe reached into his bag, moving something around and creating space. With one long sweeping motion, he held out his bag and all of the candy wrappers, magazines, and the torn book slid into the bag in one giant mess.

Malfoy didn't look up from his book, but he still asked in a chiding tone, "You will throw out that rubbish when we get to school, won't you?"

Crabbe nodded, slinging the bag over his shoulder. "How'd you do on your exams?" He asked.

He sat down on the other side of the bench, where Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini had just abandoned. Harry, underneath him, was forced to shift around as the seat sagged under Crabbe's weight.

"Practically perfect," Malfoy replied nonchalantly, "Only two 'Exceeds Expectations."

Harry, even hiding underneath the seat and knowing that it was stupid, found himself feeling proud of Draco Malfoy. It was a Hermione level academic achievement, equal to her, actually, although he knew that Malfoy was brilliant. Hermione had said once to them that the past years were the first school years in almost after almost sixty where the top ten students were not all Ravenclaws.

"I did really good in History," Goyle said, "It was my only 'Exceeds Expectations'."

Harry's eyes widened curiously.

"Well, you do like History," Malfoy reminded him, flipping another page in the book.

"My dad was really proud," Goyle smiled, "He was all busy with the Dark Lord but he... he actually took the time to say it."

"Really?" Malfoy said in surprise, looking up from his book. "He talked to you?" Goyle's grin practically split aside his face and he looked down at his hands in pleased embarrassment.

"I didn't see my dad at all," Crabbe told them, "I think he was in Albania or something. Mum said he was working with the giants again, but last time he got really hurt." He stared at the floor.

Malfoy frowned at him. "Your father is not a wimp, Vincent, he's going to be fine."

"I heard the Aurors were trying to catch the giant herds in the mountains though," Crabbe said. The word 'Aurors' seemed to spark as much terror into him as 'Death Eaters' would in any one else at the school. "What if they catch him?"

"Azkaban isn't that bad now that the Dementors are all gone," Goyle reminded him, "My grandpa says it's actually nice." Thinking of Azkaban, he turned to Malfoy, "How's _your _dad been?"

"I don't know," Malfoy told him, "They don't allow Death Eaters contact with the outside. I haven't spoken to Father since last summer."

The train finally halted to a stop.

"We really need to shut up," Malfoy told him, "if any of the students heard us talking like this we'd be shunned." Harry almost thought that he saw Malfoy's eyes flicker to where he was hiding.

Goyle nodded, standing up, "What does 'shunned' mean?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Look, you two go get our luggage and find a carriage, I'll check and see if we left anything and I'll join you in a moment."

Crabbe nodded, saying a quick "See you," and leaving the compartment, followed quickly by Goyle who slid the compartment door shut behind him.

Alone, Malfoy slowly opened up his bag. He set a bookmark in 'Hogwarts: A History' and slid it into the bag with painstaking care. His wand was on his lap and he picked it up. He stood, fingering the wand in his hands and flicking off a piece of dust.

"You could have chosen a better hiding place, you were so obvious." Malfoy said. Before Harry could even completely register that Malfoy was talking to him he heard the shout of a hex, "_Petrificus Totalus_!"

He was frozen, stiff, rigid as a board. Harry couldn't move at all, his jaws clenched and his arms pressed at his sides.

"Sometimes, Harry, you're very thick." Draco Malfoy said. He reached down, ripping the Invisibility Cloak off of Harry with exaggerated flourish. He tossed the cloak carelessly onto the seat beside his bag. Easily, much stronger than he looked, he pulled Harry out from where he was partially under the seat, dragging him into the lantern light. Malfoy chuckled, "Did you learn all that you wanted to?"

Harry tried to speak but he could only let out a short groan like sound. Against the thousands of invisible chains he struggled but he couldn't move so much as a finger, completely paralyzed.

Malfoy grinned. "For a while I thought about what I would do if I had you, helpless, under my power," Malfoy told him, "But I really couldn't settle on anything. I only have two ideas."

Malfoy stood up. He loomed over Harry for a short moment and then he stepped, hard on Harry's face. He did it once more until there was a sickening crack as Harry's nose broke. "That was the first," Malfoy told him.

Harry continued to struggle against the magic binding him although it did absolutely nothing. Blood seeped from his nose down to his lips, hot and slow. It trailed down his cheeks and he glared at Malfoy, hatred in his eyes.

Malfoy laughed at him. "Harry Potter," he crooned, "Defiant to the last." Malfoy kneeled down, his hand clenched around his wand. "This was the second," he told him. And Malfoy leaned down, capturing Harry's lips with his own.

Harry stopped trying to break free of the spell. He would have closed his eyes if he could, or wrapped his arms around Malfoy's neck to pull him in closer. He could feel the blood surge through him and he was aroused completely, almost painfully, from the single kiss.

Malfoy kissed him again, brashly on Harry's lips, leaning back as the blood from Harry's nose spilled down. Malfoy wiped the blood off of Harry's face with his hand, and kissed Harry again, his lips brushing lightly on Harry's lips. Trailing light kisses down Harry's neck, Malfoy kissed the side of Harry's face. His arms wrapped themselves around Harry's shoulders, pulling Harry's rigid body closer, capturing him in an passionate embrace.

Harry would have sighed if he could at the glory of feeling Malfoy's body against his again. Malfoy's heart was beating fast, his head pressed against the side of Harry's face gently kissing him. Malfoy's stomach was slightly bulged under his robes, as if he'd already had a full meal despite not having yet eaten at the feast, but he was like Harry had remembered, how Harry'd dreamed. Malfoy's leg curled around Harry's side, holding him close. He smelled how Harry remembered him, he held how he remembered and Harry wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around Malfoy and return the gesture. Harry knew, like he'd known all summer, that he was still, irrevocably, in love with Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy let go of Harry quickly, dropping him to the ground. He hesitated for a moment, and then kissed Harry again. His hands clenched the sides of Harry's shirt, as if he loathed to let go, and Malfoy stayed where he was, his lips still on Harry's.

Had Harry been able to move he would have closed his eyes earlier, lost in passion, but he couldn't, his eyes were forced open. He saw Malfoy's face, contemptuous and loathing, fade away as he touched Harry, changing not to love or even lust, but contorting in an expression of agony.

Malfoy held onto Harry with all of the fervor of someone holding onto their life. Until he let go, dropping Harry to the ground. Malfoy stood up, breathing heavily.

Malfoy caught a glimpse of himself in the window, which offered a good reflection, and he frowned. Gingerly, he groomed his hair back in its place with his fingers and straightened his robes. He used the black sleeve of his robe to wipe Harry's blood off his face.

"You really shouldn't have spied on me," Malfoy told him. He took the Invisibility Cloak off of the seat, holding it over Harry's body. "It will take them forever to find you, they'll probably be half-way back to England before they realize you've gone." Malfoy was about to drop the Invisibility Cloak over Harry's body before he realized something better and he pulled his hands back.

"You don't really need this, do you?" Malfoy asked Harry, smirking at him. He walked over to the window, pulling down the curtains. "No one's likely to see you anyway, and I'm sure I could make much better use of it than you." Malfoy opened his bag, stuffing the precious cloak into it with a malicious grin crossing his face.

"Think of it as _my_ share," Malfoy told him. Harry's brow would have furrowed if he could move and he didn't know what Malfoy was talking about. "An inheritance... after all, you got it from your father, didn't you?"

Malfoy knelt down and tweaked Harry's broken nose. Tears welled up in Harry's eyes from the pain. "It really is a priceless gift, an Invisibility Cloak with a charm that doesn't wear out. Thank you Harry, I truly appreciate it." He leaned down and whispered into Harry's ear, "Let's just let this be the _only _good thing you've ever done for me."

And Malfoy left, slinging the bag with Harry's Invisibility Cloak over his shoulder, sliding the compartment door shut behind him.

...

**This is your review reminder. Review, pweez?**


	9. Chapter 9

** Sloth... this is all starting to get to be so much trouble. Lazy...  
>…<strong>

Ron and Hermione stared at Harry with the same open mouths and expressions as everyone else. "What _happened_?" Hermione demanded.

"Slytherins." Harry told her.

"You look awful!" Hermione cried. She took her napkin and dipped it in water, giving it to Harry to wipe his face with.

Harry had caused a disturbance in the feast, which was well on its way, although his normal presence would have caused almost the same reaction him being covered in blood just added to the attention. Even a few of the teachers were standing up at their table to look at him curiously. Draco Malfoy was talking to some Slytherins at his table, and he gestured to his nose which erupted the Slytherins into piels of laughter. Malfoy though, didn't even look in Harry's direction, being one of the few in the entire Great Hall not doing so. Like Harry wasn't even worth his time. Harry wiped the blood off his face as best as he could.

"I feel awful," Harry replied to Hermione, "Tonks had to fix my nose, it was broken." He said that to explain why he kept wrinkling his nose, Ron had been looking at him funny.

"Which Slytherins?" Ron asked, shaking his fist at the entire table but only catching the eye of one of the newly sorted first-years, who stared back at him in terror.

"Malfoy," Harry told them. Dropping his voice to a whisper because Seamus and Dean were leaning in, he told them, "He took my cloak."

"How'd he get it?" Ron hissed, looking away from the first year who was still staring at him.

"I was spying on them with it," Harry confessed, "Malfoy caught me, paralyzed me, then he broke my nose and..." he hesitated, trying not to think about Malfoy's hot breath on his face. It had been embarrassing enough when he'd rushed back to his compartment after Tonks had found him to pull on his robes, he did not want to have to think up a lie for Ron and Hermione too, even though robes were great at concealing almost everything. "He took the cloak."

"Alright," Ron nodded, frowning at Malfoy from across the Great Hall, "How are we going to get it back?"

"We could ask him," Hermione offered.

Ron's jaw dropped. "Ask _Malfoy_? Where have _you _been all these years at school?"

"Malfoy's not as bad as you think," Hermione told him.

Harry chocked on a piece of bread he was eating as he heard Hermione say the words he'd been desperate to hear last year.

"Not as bad? Did you loose your memory?" Ron demanded of her.

"No, but maybe _you _did. Malfoy saved Harry from Umbridge last year and he even helped us," Hermione reminded him in a hushed tone, "Harry _was_ spying on him Maybe if we just explained that the Invisibility Cloak was a gift from Harry's father he'd give it back."

"_Why_? _We _put Malfoy's father in prison, do you think he's happy about that?" Ron hissed.

"It's worth a try!" Hermione demanded.

_ ...the only good thing you've ever done for me..._ Harry remembered. "Malfoy's not giving it up, it'd be better just ambush him."

"That I agree with." Ron said.

"_Harry_!" Hermioned growled.

"No, I wasn't actually suggesting that we actually ambush him!" Harry told them, "I was just using it as an example!"

"Well, _I_ will ask Malfoy because the two of you are idiots." Hermione said, taking a dainty bite of pudding.

0

Draco was definitely surprised to learn that the new teacher, Slughorn, would be taking over the Potions position and Professor Snape would finally be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and he was still mulling that over, walking alone to the dungeons, when he was cornered by Granger. Her hands were on her hips, her lips pursed angrily, and she stormed up to him, her bushy hair bouncing as she walked. "Give it back." Granger demanded.

"..._Sorry_?" Draco frowned, taking a step away from her.

"Harry's cloak, his father gave that to him and it _belongs _to him. Give it back." She held out her hand expectantly.

Draco smirked, "Well, that's the thing about fathers, isn't it? All they can do is hand down the things they have and hope for the best."

"Malfoy, that doesn't make sense," Granger told him. "Look," she sighed, body relaxing, "I know you're not that bad, so _please. _The cloak really means a lot to Harry."

Draco leaned forward, his eyes flashing. "If it means so much, _where is he_?" He gestured around, indicating their complete isolation from anyone except a few portraits.

"You did break his nose." Granger crossed her arms.

Draco grinned viciously, "Did he tell you what else I did?" Granger's brow furrowed in confusion. "I thought he wouldn't. I bet you Harry's been keeping a lot of things secret from you lately."

"How do you know that?" Granger frowned. Regaining herself, she tossed her bushy hair with a flick of her head, "It doesn't matter. You can't take something from another student, I _will_ involve a teacher."

Draco snorted. "Like with the Remembrall first year? _Please_, do you know what the punishment for stealing something is? You have to smell Filch's tuna breath as he tells you not to do it again and lets you off with just a warning."

"_I'll _tell McGonagall." Granger told him.

"And what if I decide to throw the precious Invisibility Cloak in a fire?" Draco asked.

Granger glared at him. "I guess you haven't changed a bit."

Draco shook his head. "On the contrary, I've changed quite a bit, although whether I moved in the right direction is up for discussion," he said and he crossed his arms. Thinking for a moment, Draco replied, "I _may _return the cloak."

Granger rolled her eyes. "As if _that's _a guarantee," she mumbled sarcastically.

"What?" Draco spread out his arms in a gesture of helplessness. "I'm doing the best I can here. This cloak would be _very _useful to me, so why should I give it away?"

"Because!" Granger stomped her foot, "It's not _yours _to give away, it belongs to Harry."

"Not _now_," Draco reminded her. "I'm the only one who knows where it is." Currently, the cloak was in a bag on his back, but Draco made a mental note to find a good hiding place. "And I am absolutely not parting with it for free."

"_Now_ we're getting somewhere," Granger sighed. "What do you want?"

Draco chuckled, "I'm certainly not going to know _now_ will I? I have to think about it a bit more, maybe sleep for a night or two, and then I'll tell you what I believe is a fair trade for a priceless family heirloom."

Granger glared at him. "We _can't_ get your father out of Azkaban, if you're thinking of asking for that."

Draco shook his head violently, "Absolutely not, I'm going to find something that will actually _help _me." He smirked at Granger, "We're both intelligent people, I'm sure you know how bargaining works. I have something you desperately want and so I'll want something as equally valuable in trade."

"Fine," Granger said, "When will you tell us what you want?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "When I figure out what it is, now _please _Granger, I'm tired and I would like to unpack before I sleep, we _do _have classes tomorrow."

"Fine," Granger said. She thought for a moment and then asked, "Malfoy, what... are you okay? You seem... off."

Draco ignored her, turning around and walking back to the dungeons without giving her a second glance.

0

"Have you figured it out yet?" Granger cornered him after lunch the next day.

"Still thinking," Draco told her.

She frowned at him, "Did I tell you that Harry's father-"

"...left Harry the cloak for his inheritance, I _know_." Draco rolled his eyes. "_Granger_, I told you, I'll _tell _you when I figure out what I want."

1

"That git," Ron was saying.

Harry looked up from his homework. He'd lost track of the conversation and had written seven inches on the importance of wand movement in Transfiguration before he was drawn back in. Hermione had finished her homework during the break while Ron and Harry had been playing chess, and now Harry was doing his homework in the time after dinner and Ron was ignoring it.

"It's been how long, two weeks?" Ron asked.

"Almost twelve days," Hermione corrected. She was lying down on a couch, reading a classic, romantic wizarding novel and pretending she wasn't enjoying it as much as she really was.

"Yeah," Ron said, "Twelve _days _he hasn't even told us what he wants. Git."

"Well, Invisibility Cloaks don't fall from the sky," Harry told him.

"He's a thief," Ron told him, "A no-good, rotten, thief." He pushed his Transfigurations textbook to the side. "I say we still jump him," he said to Harry, "You, me, and maybe Seamus or someone. Or Ginny, she could do that Bat-Bogey Hex. We get him just after he's coming out of Quidditch practice with the Slytherins, when he's tired, and we-"

"He didn't try out." Hermione told them. She set her book down, frowning at them.

"Huh?" Ron asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "While the two of you were doing nothing, _I _have been doing my best to try to negotiate Harry's cloak out of Malfoy's hands."

"So?" Harry asked, wondering how this all fit.

"In the process, I'm learning a lot about him that I didn't know. _One_ thing," she told them, "is that Draco Malfoy did not try out for the Quidditch team this year."

Ron was speechless and Harry's jaw dropped. "Malfoy _didn't _try out?"

"All of the Slytherins are talking about it," Hermione told them. "He was the best Seeker they had in a long time and now all they have trying out tomorrow is a third year girl and some seventh year who lost the Seeker position when Malfoy came in." She tossed her hair around her head, "Apparently quite a few of them tried by force to get Malfoy to come back but Crabbe and Goyle sent them to the hospital wing."

"Why _wouldn't _he play?" Ron wondered, "I mean, he has a guaranteed position on the team and he's really second on the field only to Harry. If _I _were that good I wouldn't just quit, what if he wants to do it next year?"

"Malfoy has been acting oddly lately, hasn't he?" Hermione reminded them. "Ever since the end of the last year."

Harry gulped.

"Well, he's a filthy Slytherin, who cares?" Ron opened a textbook to the pages he had to answer before class tomorrow and he groaned.

"_I _think that it's important to know. I mean, don't you remember what Harry said that Malfoy and Crabbe and Goyle were talking about?" Hermione asked.

Ron frowned, thought back to what Harry had told them happened on the train, and shrugged.

Hermione nodded at Harry as she said this, "You _said_ that they talked about the grades they got for O.W.L.s and then that Goyle's father finally spoke to him and _Crabbe_'s worried about his father who went off to recruit giants, didn't you?"

Harry nodded. "But what does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, _I _think," Hermione began snobbishly but her voice turned gentle, "That it's rather sad. I mean _we_ would talk about O.W.L.s but we never really had to worry about the things they do. Those three are the only students at school whose parents are Death Eaters. There are several whose parents support You-Know-Who but only Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle are with his strongest supporters."

"So?" Ron asked her, frowning because he couldn't see a point to this.

Hermione frowned at them, sitting up from the couch. "Well _I _certainly can't imagine Lucius or Narcissa Malfoy rocking their child to sleep at night, can you?"

Harry stared at her. "What does _that _have to do with anything?" He asked again.

Hermione glared at them. "If _you both_ don't get it then fine! Ignore me, pretend I didn't say anything! You're all so shrouded in who's on who's side you haven't even stopped to _think_!" She stormed off, leaving Ron and Harry confused in her wake.

Not wanting to talk, the two of them did their work, Harry finishing long before Ron. Although it was only eight, Harry went up to his dorm. He changed into his clothes and lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

_ 'I can't imagine Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy rocking their child to sleep at night, can you?'_

Harry understood what she'd been trying to say. For a long time they'd just assumed that Malfoy and even Crabbe and Goyle had lived spoiled lives, getting whatever they wanted from their parents. Selfish brats, trying to get whatever they wanted. Not poor children, devoid of any human love, raised in homes of Dark nature. Especially Draco.

Narcissa Malfoy. Harry had only seen her once, at a match between Slytherin and Gryffindor. She'd been sitting in the visitors' box, staring at everything with a repulsed look on her face, every part of her rigid person tense with disgust. Harry had assumed that the look was for him, or for all of the Muggle-borns around, but it was only then he realized that he could have easily been mistaken. It was no stretch of the imagination to say that the look on her face was meant for Draco Malfoy.

If Narcissa Malfoy loathed Draco Malfoy like that, where did that leave Draco? Growing up in a home, a shameful reminder of what his father had done with Bellatrix Lestrange, a woman currently in Azkaban for life, allowed no visitors, could send no letters, having no contact at all with his son.

Harry gasped.

Draco had never met his mother. He'd never spoken to her before, he had only heard about her. Even hearing the things about Bellatrix Lestrange, how she was a murderess, a torturer, how could he not think of her? Raised without a mother, with only a woman who loathed him to compare to, Draco Malfoy would have done what Harry had done. He would have looked at other families and watched them, happy, together, and wished his could be just like them. If Lily Potter were alive, even if she were a condemned killer, wouldn't Harry be desperate to meet her?

Draco had been raised among pure-blooded, noble families, obsessed with perfection, raised as the black sheep, the bastard child. These were families with centuries of lineage untainted by a single blemish until Draco was born. Lucius Malfoy had an affair with his wife's _sister_. But at Hogwarts no one bothered to read his birth certificate when they met him, no one asked him who his parents were, and that was why Draco, for years, had bragged about his father. That was why Draco was obsessed with the purity of blood, it had been ingrained on him for years. All Draco had had was the fact he was a pure-blood, otherwise he was a child born out of wedlock and a disgrace. No wonder he had avoided telling Harry. Draco hadn't spoken of his past because it was painful.

Shame and guilt crawled its ugly presence into Harry's mind. For an entire summer he had believed faulted evidence, not bothering to think to even understand it. Narcissa Malfoy was Kreacher's contact and she would never share anything with her husband's illegitimate son, Draco had nothing to do with her.

Draco didn't tell Harry about the plot for his life, but wasn't that common knowledge? Voldemort was back so obviously he would be after Harry, Draco would never even think to warn Harry and if he did it would change absolutely nothing.

Harry had just assumed. His grief and paranoia had connected the dots to a puzzle that didn't exist. It was so obvious; Draco wasn't working for Voldemort, Draco had no angle, he had only been trying to help Harry. Draco loved Harry.

'_Leave me alone! I never want to see you again! You're a MONSTER! I HATE YOU!_' Harry heard the words as clear as the day he'd said them. Tears flooded to his eyes and he let them fall. What had he done to Draco? Harry loved Draco and if Draco had said those words to him... Harry didn't know what he would have done.

'_Let's just let this be the only good thing you've ever done for me._' Draco said that on the train, so nonchalantly it was as if he didn't mean it. Draco had to have meant it.

_ Harry_ had seduced Draco. It was _Harry's _kiss in the Owlery which caused Draco to fall in love. It was _Harry_, opening up to Draco, showing him his priceless possessions, telling him all about his past... and then the night, Draco was frightened when he came to Harry, he held Harry to him as if for comfort and Harry slept with him. After that, Draco had seemed weaker, more fragile, the arrogant airs which he put on had mostly fallen away and that was the best way Draco could open up to Harry.

Harry had asked Draco to go with him to the Ministry of Magic. He'd asked Draco, raised on perfection, to break into the Department of Mysteries when they were very likely walking into a trap and Draco's _father_ would have been there. If Draco had gone he would have had to fight not only his _father_ and other relatives, people he'd know for his entire life, but he would have had to fight the _mother_ he had never met.

'...t_he Dark Lord will look into my mind and he will see that moment, I won't be able to hide anything from him_.' Draco had said that, three days after Harry had kissed him the first time.

And Crabbe, just over a week ago, had asked Draco '_What did the Dark Lord say, when you talked to him?_'

Harry curled himself in the bed, tugging on the pillows. Voldemort had Draco over the summer. At his mercy, Draco had gone to the Dark Lord, his mind open for Voldemort to see all that he had done with Harry.

Harry felt sick.

0

Draco, shuffling his way to Potions, tried not to be seen by any of the Slytherins passing by. He was very, very unpopular. He'd worked up years on his reputation but it only took one simple, passive motion, not attending try-outs for Quidditch, to ruin it. Rook had offered Draco the position as Seeker anyway, apparently the two who'd tried out were disastrous, but Draco had refused, which sparked even more animosity toward him. Draco was four months pregnant and very busy trying to kill the Headmaster, he had no right and certainly no time to play Quidditch.

He shuffled his feet. Gregory was behind him but Vincent had gone to the hospital wing with a bloody lip. Vincent would be back in class almost right away except Draco had a strong suspicion that he was also Confunded. Unfortunately, Draco had no idea how to tell. Despite the fact that Gregory and Vincent were his only and long-time friends, they were not clever at all and Draco really couldn't tell the difference between a Confundus curse or just the product of a restless night. In any sense, the attack was meant for Draco.

Slytherins held very strong grudges, especially when it came to Quidditch.

Gregory was taking his job of protecting Draco very seriously, glaring at any one who walked by, be it Hufflepuffs or first-years and Draco was getting very annoyed with him. "Not every fly represents a threat, Gregory," Draco reminded him. Gregory had no idea what Draco meant, nor that Draco was using an analogy, so he just nodded and continued what he was doing, becoming very confused when he heard Draco let out a troubled sigh.

Quite a few classrooms away from them, coming up from the dungeon, emerged Harry Potter.

"Now here's a fly," Draco mumbled.

"That's not a fly," Gregory reminded him with a whisper, as if Draco was the one who had been Confunded, "that's Potter."

"I know who he is, Gregory." Draco snapped.

"Draco... Malfoy," Harry Potter said, running up at them. "I..." he stumbled over the words, gaze falling to Gregory. He seemed awkward, his hands fiddling with the sides of his robes. His hair was more tangled than usual, dark circles around his eyes and his face was very pale to the point of looking ill. "I need to speak with you, privately."

"As if we have anything to say to each other," Draco snapped.

"I _need_ to talk to you," Harry pressed, shuffling his feet.

Draco rolled his eyes. "And here I was, thinking Granger did all the talking for you," he drawled, "Now, some of us aren't the teacher's pet so I have to go to class." He walked off, shuffling around Harry.

Harry grabbed Draco's wrist, holding him. They locked gazes and Draco frowned as he saw Harry's eyes behind his round glasses, red as if he'd been crying. "_Please_," Harry pleaded.

Draco looked at Gregory. "I'll meet you in class."

"You sure?" Gregory asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Draco nodded. "Tell... tell Slughorn I had to go to the hospital wing or... actually, don't say anything at all. I'll think of something."

Gregory stared for a moment at him and then shrugged. Not one to hesitate when he'd made a decision, Gregory moved fast down the length of the hall and sped down the staircase to the dungeon, gone before Draco had the chance to regret it.

"Now," Draco said, raising his eyebrow as he stared at Harry, "What do you-"

Draco was interrupted. Harry wordlessly pulled Draco toward him, wrapping his arms around his neck and pulling him in for a passionate, heated kiss.

Draco was confused. But he set his hands down on Harry's sides, pushing them together so they touched. Harry held Draco like a flower, his hands gentle, tickling Draco as they slid down to his shoulders, but his lips burned on Draco's lips. Like fire, driven by an intense need, Harry pushed Draco against the wall, ignoring a shouted protest from a portrait nearby. His hand reached down, taking Draco's, fingers curling so that they held together. Harry pressed his lips hard, again and again, onto Draco's, as if trying vainly to say what he couldn't manage with words; Draco couldn't understand. Harry's hand and body shook as he held Draco, pinned against the wall, and he tingled where Draco's hands touched him, holding him close.

Desperately, Harry pulled away, still holding Draco. He looked at Draco, glasses askew, the bright green burning with emotion. "I love you," Harry whispered.

Draco held up a trembling hand, pressing it against Harry's chest. Obediently, Harry moved away.

Shrugging his shoulder, Draco's bag fell to his side and he reached inside. His fingers grasped something on the bottom. Draco hadn't been able to think of a better hiding place for the Invisibility Cloak than on his own person at all times and he pulled the long, ornate fabric out. "Here," Draco's voice stuck in his throat and he held the cloak out to Harry.

Harry ripped the cloak out of Draco's hand but instead of taking it and leaving he grabbed Draco's bag, stuffing the cloak inside it without any care. "It's yours," Harry told him.

Draco didn't have the reaction Harry was expecting. "Oh?" His eyes narrowed. "Is that it?" Draco dropped the Invisibility Cloak, letting it land on the dusty stone floor. "Are you trying to make up for what you did?"

"I'm not." Harry swallowed. He couldn't seem to bring himself to an answer and Draco sneered at him.

"Now that we're back in Hogwarts, _what_? Are you itching for a _shag_?" Draco drawled. He drew himself up, clenching his fists and tensing his muscles. "Do you _actually_ expect me to come back to _you_?" He snarled. "Leave me the _hell_ alone, Potter." Draco nodded, agreeing with himself. He found anger stored in every little pocket of his mind, desperate to get out.

Fine. He _might_ have brought this on himself. Kissing Potter had been a bad idea, he knew it the moment he did it. Now he just made himself seem like an easy shag, but Draco was _not_ going to make himself that. Millicent might have a fine time with that reputation, but Draco was not someone like that and he was _not_ going to let Potter think he was.

"What is wrong with you?" Draco wondered grimly. His entire being screeched with loathing at the person in front of him. In an instant, Draco knew he _loathed_ Potter.

"Look," Potter tried, "I'm sorry that I-"

"WHAT? You're sorry that you _what_?" Draco shouted. He narrowed his eyes. "Nothing to say, _Potter_?" He spat the name like the vilest of curses. "No excuses?" Draco pursed his lips in mock pity, "Poor Potter can't get Weaslette in bed? Has to come running to me?"

Potter's eyes flashed with anger, but he sighed and it abated as quickly as it had come. "Draco," he began.

Draco's fist flew through the air and collided with the side of Potter's head. Draco hissed in pain, grabbing his throbbing fist with his other hand, and Potter jumped back, his forehead furrowing in apparent shock. "Didn't expect that," Potter muttered, touching his ear painfully.

"You should have. And much, much worse." Draco regretted those words. He sounded too vulnerable, too hurt. He needed, he needed _something_. "You're an asshole," Draco snapped.

That seemed to work. Pain crossed Potter's face. "Draco," he said, "I didn't-"

Draco raised his hand to hit him again. "I _will_ fight you like a Muggle if that gets you to stay the hell away from me," he threatened. But his hand found his wand in his pocket and he grasped it. "Or I'll hex you to the hospital wing. Take your pick."

"Fine." Potter took a deep breath. "I just. I have one question," he trained his bright green eyes on Draco.

Draco felt weak, because those eyes weren't _fair_. But the feeling of hatred stayed strong, burning him from the inside. "Ask, then."

"Was it real for you? Did it really happen like I thought it did? Do you care about me?" Potter had to bite his lip to stop from sprouting out more questions.

Draco felt the back of his eyes burning. "That's three questions," he drawled, trying to seem detatched. "Pick one."

Potter nodded, shooting Draco a single, spiteful glare. At least Potter still had his pride. Draco didn't, he was pretty sure he'd lost it all to Narcissa. "Was it real?" He asked, those bright eyes piercing as if to penetrate Draco's soul. As if his eyes were their own Veritaserum.

Draco swallowed harshly. "Does it matter?" He said, his voice not as malicious as he wanted it.

...

**This is your review reminder. Review, pweez?**

** Review or, spitefully, I will wait awhile before finishing this scene. And since in this scene Harry learns Draco's been pregnant (and tortured) it's sorta important.**


	10. Chapter 10

** I'm depressed. Can't go see Star of Milos... it's all I want (except possible Hermione Granger and a rocketship). No wait, I'd take a Tardis too, and Ed as a boyfriend, and Artemis Fowl as my business partner, and Panic! At the Disco as my bff...**

** I'm rambling. Here's your story.**

…

"It matters. It matters more than anything." Potter- Harry was in pain. Draco could see it on his expression, the confusion.

"You thought it wasn't?" Draco stepped away, turning his gaze from Harry's brilliant eyes.

"Answer. Please," Harry pleaded. He reached forward to grasp Draco's hand.

For a moment, Draco paused, still pointedly staring at a portrait beyond Harry, not looking at their hands. If he looked at their hands, fingers interlocking, Harry's calloused palm forced against his, then Draco knew he would break. And he wasn't going to. He was stronger than Potter. He could prove it. "You're an _ass_," Draco drawled, painfully slowly so Harry could hear every anger laced word, "and it _was._ For me. But _obviously_ not for you."

"It was, it was real for me, I swear," Harry protested. He reached his free hand for Draco's face as if to pull him in for a kiss.

Draco backed away, yanking his hand out of Potter's grip. "No!" His eyes flashed with fury. "What kind of a person _are_ you, Harry? To pretend like you actually care and then dump me away like yesterday's rubbish?" Harry tried to speak, but Draco stopped him by shouting, "I don't want us to have anything to do with you!"

"I love you," Harry said, sincerity in his halted voice and his pained expression. "I love you and every moment away from you, all summer, you were all I could think about and I..." He swallowed hard, forcing the next words out. "I am an ass. I'm an asshole. I'm a wanker, I'm thick, I'm frankly the worst person I could ever be. And you've had to forgive me for that so many times."

His wiped at his eyes with his sleeve, and Draco took a step back in surprise. "You haven't," Draco tried, his fury abated by the realization that Harry was _crying_.

"No. I have. I am. I." Harry swallowed again. "I should never have accused you like that. I should never have acted like that. I should have been better." He seemed disgusted with himself and he added, "I thought I _was_ better."

"Potter," Draco said, saying the word without fully understanding it.

"Draco," Harry continued, "I _am_ an _ass_. I am a fucking arse."

Harry barely ever cursed. Draco's mind was blank, his head reeling.

"I..." Harry took Draco's hand, staring at it like he couldn't bear to look at Draco any longer. "You must hate me. _I_ hate me. I don't think I could ever stand the sight of me. I just... I need you to know that I made a mistake, the worst bloody mistake I've ever made in my entire life and I am so, _so_ sorry for it. I don't want you to forgive me. I don't. I don't think I ever want you to. I just... I'm sorry, Dra... Malfoy. I'm sorry."

They heard the sound of footsteps and both of them turned in the direction. It only took a few moments for them to realize what a compromising situation they were in. Anyone coming down the hall would see them. Draco's eyes quickly took in everything around them and he saw, on the other side of the hall, one of Filch's closets. "Come on," Draco said, grabbing Harry's wrist. He started to rush over, grabbing Harry, but Harry stayed where he was. "Someone's _coming_," Draco reminded him.

"I should go," Harry turned to leave but Draco kept his icy cold grasp on Harry's wrist.

"I love you, you complete and total _arse_," Draco admitted. Harry's eyes snapped up to Draco's in amazement. "I do, all summer, despite this, and _I forgive you_, I forgave you a very, very long time ago and maybe I stole your cloak and I've been acting like a wanker because I'm petty, not because I hate you because I could _never_ hate you."

The steps were getting closer, Harry didn't seem to notice. His features lit up, a small smile crossing his face had he tried to bury down and he had to keep more tears from falling, wiping his eyes furiously on his sleeve. "Draco, I'm sorry, I can't believe," Harry swallowed. He reached up, his hand on the back of Draco's neck, pulling their lips close together. "Draco, I don't know what-"

Draco shushed him quickly. And he asked him, "Did you tell anyone about us? Granger or Weasley?"

"Er... no."

"Then you don't want them to find out because some third-years say they saw us snogging in the hallway, come _on_," Draco tugged on Harry's wrist and this time Harry followed, grabbing Draco's bag for him.

Filch's closets were always locked to prevent any students from getting inside and getting at his cleaning supplies, but unfortunately in the second year almost all students had learned the Unlocking Spell even if it wasn't in their courses until fourth year, so locking his closets did no good, students snuck inside all of the time. "Alohomora," Draco whispered, waving his wand out the door.

The footsteps were very close and Draco had just enough time to jump inside, pull Harry in after him, and shut the door before he heard them rounding the hallway. He listened as the small group went by, a gaggle of giggling girls who were headed to the dungeon and out of range in only moments. Still, it would be better if Draco and Harry stayed here, no one was liable to see them unless someone dropped a Dungbomb on this floor and Filch came running. "Here we are," Draco mumbled.

"I can't see a thing," Harry informed him.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Lumos," he reminded Harry, his wand tip lighting.

Meant as a simple supply closet for Filch, it was dark, musty, and the floor was crowded with buckets, the walls lined with mops and brooms, and shelves overhead filled to overstocking with questionable potions. The irony of it was that despite the room being filled entirely with cleaning supplies it was covered in dust. Harry, blinking rapidly, took one step back and fell on something which squeaked. Draco shone his light around Harry's feet and they both grimaced as they saw an old chewed up cat toy.

"Well," Draco said, "This is as good a place as any, I suppose. So... where were we?"

Harry grinned, "I love you." He kissed Draco again, hard, and Draco stumbled back. His foot stepped in a bucket that sloshed with water.

"Ugh," Draco mumbled, jumping out of the bucket. "Fine, this is _not _as good a place as any."

"Er... we can go outside?" Harry offered.

"No, no," Draco said, shaking his foot to get off some of the water, "It's not four in the morning, someone is bound to see us, and unless you fancy talking under the Invisibility Cloak we can stay-"

"That doesn't sound that bad, actually-"

"Harry, you were going to say something to me, just say it now." Draco crossed his arms, frowning at him.

"Er..." Harry thought for a moment. His face seemed to drain of color again and he said morbidly, "I just... it was all my fault, I accused you when I had absolutely no evidence and nothing to prove that, I was emotional and _thick_ and a _bloody-_"

Draco interrupted him, "It was my fault, I should have told you about my mother sooner, I just couldn't... figure out... _how, _exactly," his voice trailed off.

Harry rested his hands on Draco's shoulders, looking into his eyes, "No, you had every right to keep that quiet for as long as you did, it was _my_ fault. Just because she's your mother doesn't mean anything-"

"It _does_ if she had just murdered your godfather." Draco said quietly, "Besides, she _is _my mother, which means half of her comes from me... and then the other half is Lucius Malfoy." Draco's nose wrinkled in distaste, "You had heroes for parents but _I _had a madwoman and a pompous coward."

"So it's surprising you came out so perfect," Harry mumbled. He leaned forward, brushing his lips against Draco's forehead, "I love you."

"You haven't changed, you're as romantic as ever," Draco said with a smile.

"I'm so, so sorry, Draco," Harry said, "Did..." His voice choked, "When you were... when Voldemort, did he hurt you?"

Draco's smile faded to a serious frown. "Yes," he told Harry.

Harry jumped to him, gathering him up in a loving embrace. His arms shook and Draco sighed, "It wasn't very bad, Harry, he said I was too useful to him for..." Draco's voice trailed away, his gaze falling to his forearm. "I didn't have anyone else, Harry," Draco said slowly, "I only had my mother, and she's the Dark Lord's most loyal Death Eater."

Harry kissed Draco again, holding him close. Draco pushed Harry away. "Draco, what-" Harry began, but Draco shushed him. Silently, Draco pulled back his left sleeve, revealing a black bandage wrapped around his forearm. He hesitated, but his hand reached out, tugging on a corner of the bandage. In a few swift motions, Draco's forearm was uncovered, revealing the Dark Mark, shockingly black against his pale skin.

"I'm sorry, Harry, he would have killed me, I had to..." Draco froze when Harry took his arm, staring seriously at the mark. "Are you... are you disappointed?" Draco whispered.

Harry paused, confused. It took him a long moment, and then he shook his head. "It's my fault," Harry told Draco. Tears burned in his eyes as he looked up. "I let you go to him, it's my fault, _I _did this to you, I did, I..." His words caught and he dropped Draco's arms, wiping away tears from his face again.

Draco took the bandage, wrapping the Dark Mark in it again as though covering it up would wipe it off of him. "He didn't give me a choice, he was going to kill me and the baby if I didn't pledge to him."

Harry looked back up at him in confusion. "What baby?" He asked.

Draco snorted, "_Our_ baby, Harry."

"What baby?" Harry repeated.

Draco rolled his eyes. Harry couldn't have forgotten but he was being rather thick. "Our baby," Draco repeated, taking Harry's hand and placing it against his stomach.

Harry felt that, his eyes widening. "_What_ baby?"

Draco frowned at him. "Harry," he drawled, "our baby."

"But... but you can't be pregnant!" Harry cried, jumping back. In the closet he had nowhere to go and he fell against some buckets and cleaning supplies, a mop hitting his head. Despite his treacherous position on the floor, bleach soaking into his robes, Harry was staring up at Draco.

"And _why_ can't I be pregnant?" Draco asked, crossing his arms.

"You're... you're a bloke!" Harry shouted, gesturing widely, "Men can't get pregnant!"

Draco's brow furrowed, "Where by _Merlin_ did you hear that?"

Harry's jaw dropped. "By... by Merlin... so... so in the magical world men can... but that doesn't make any sense!"

"Not make sense? Men have been having children for thousands of years, where have _you_ been?" Draco growled, "And... and just three days ago in History of Magic we were talking about Dodjer Morthdor who had a father and a mother who were both men."

"You can't have a mother who's a bloke!" Harry protested.

"Well then what the bloody hell am I?" Draco demanded.

Harry quieted down, sitting up so that he wasn't sprawled against the cleaning supplies. "You're... you're pregnant? But... how did this happen?"

Draco stared at him as if Harry had all the intelligence of an ant. "Harry, you were there, you should bloody well remember."

"Right," Harry said. His heart beating fast from shock he pressed his hand against his chest to stop it.

Draco sat down beside Harry on the floor. "You... you were Muggle raised," Draco realized, "I always just assumed you knew, it was... I mean it's common knowledge, that's how half-giants and half-elves are made anyway. The magic from two magical beings takes over, it... and in our case, with two wizards, the dominant one is the father and so I'm having the child because I let you..."

"I..." Harry stumbled over the words to say. His gaze fell to Draco's stomach. Horror crossed Harry's face. "I let you go to Voldemort like that," Harry whispered, "Does he... does he know that...?"

"Yes," Draco told him. "But this one isn't your fault Harry," he sat back, wrapping his arms around his knees, "I'm the one who didn't say the prevention spell and I just assumed when you never talked about it," his voice trailed off.

"Assumed what?" Harry asked, "That I didn't care?"

Draco didn't answer, which was in itself a reply.

"Oh, Draco," Harry wiped away several more tears from his face, "Oh, Draco I am so sorry, I am so, so, so bloody sorry."

"It's my fault," Draco told him, "The rest was really yours but if I had just realized and told you then you never would have-"

"I love you, Draco. And we both need to stop just saying whose to blame for all of this." Harry grinned slightly, "I mean," he gestured to Draco's stomach, "We're going to have a... a... a..."

"Boy," Draco told him.

"A..." Harry suddenly smiled brightly, "I love magic."

To Draco, saying that was as if saying one loved the air, and he stared at Harry in confusion.

"What are we going to name him?" Harry said.

Draco's eyes widened. He'd already chosen the name for the baby and he could barely even contemplate calling it anything else. "I... I was," he stumbled over the words, "I was going to name him Adam."

"Adam?" Harry repeated.

"Adam... Adam Scorpius Mal... Potter."

"Adam Scorpius Potter," Harry repeated, "Adam Scorpius Potter."

"Do... do you like it? You can change it if you want I just thought-"

"It's perfect," Harry said. He crawled over beside Draco, setting his hand on Draco's stomach. "Adam." Harry smiled. A strange expression suddenly came over Harry's face as he realized, "I'm a father."

Draco nodded.

"_I'm_ a father." Harry repeated.

"Please don't faint, Harry," Draco warned.

"_I am_ a _father_."

"Harry-"

"I'm going to have a _son_."

"That's sort of obvious-"

"I have a _son_, _Adam_. I'm his _father_."

"Are you in shock?"

"I'm a _dad_," Harry said. He grabbed Draco, pulling him toward him, kissing him powerfully on the lips. "We're _parents_!" He cried, kissing Draco again.

"We're going to be late for class," Draco reminded him.

Harry's eyes widened in panic. "We're _sixteen_," Harry remembered.

"_And_ I'm a Death Eater and you're the Chosen One, it's complicated, I know, but Harry, _please_, Slughorn might love you and not dock you points but some of us don't have the privilege." Draco tried to stand up but Harry's grip was too strong.

"Let's skip class," Harry mumbled, burying his head in Draco's hair.

Draco frowned, "Have you ever even done that before?"

"No," Harry said, "But I'm not letting you go."

"We have the same class, we can be together," Draco reminded him, but Harry held Draco closer. "Harry, we can't stay in a dusty cleaning closet forever."

"Just now," Harry mumbled, "I'm a father."

"Harry, you cannot tell, promise?" Draco said.

Harry looked up.

"I'm a Death Eater, that means the Dark Lord has power over me, and if it becomes common knowledge that I'm pregnant with _your _child he'll force me back to him. He only let me back in school because he had a task he needed me to do... I have to... kill someone, but not you, and I'm certain he's setting me up to fail but if I don't do this he'll find me and he'll kill me." Draco entreated.

Harry kissed Draco's forehead. "Not a word then," he said, "A secret. But... even Ron and Hermione?"

"Who?" Draco asked.

"Weasley and Granger," Harry clarified.

"You can tell them," Draco nodded. He frowned, "I can't tell Vincent and Gregory though, they don't know how to keep their mouths shut unless they're chewing."

Harry chuckled. Quiet for a long moment, he pulled Draco into his lap "Adam," Harry sighed.

"Adam."

.

Telling Ron and Hermione without having them freak out was going to be one of the hardest things Harry had ever done. _Baby steps_, Draco had advised, _one degree at a time._ Harry would absolutely follow the advice because it was much better than his idea, which had been to get it over with in one go. That would have gone something like, "Ron, Hermione, just so you know, I dated Draco Malfoy at the end of last year, he got pregnant but I didn't know and then we had a row, he went home, became a Death Eater, but he's back and we sorted it out and now we're madly in love and going to have a son."

That would not have gone over well.

_ Degrees, baby steps. _What would the first be? I have a boyfriend, that would work. Hermione didn't know Harry was queer. Then what? "By the way, that boyfriend of mine is Draco Malfoy"? Harry supposed. And next, Draco Malfoy's a Death Eater? That would be a lovely conversation. And... "I'm in love with Draco Malfoy. Yes, he is a Death Eater and also male, but I already told you that and we're dating anyway." No. "I'm in love" should come either after "I have a boyfriend" or "I'm dating Draco Malfoy It might be better to say "I'm in love" before he said it was Draco so Ron and Hermione could warm up to the whole idea. So... after "Draco Malfoy is a Death Eater" should he say "Draco Malfoy is pregnant with my child" or "Yes, we had sex".

Actually, Harry was pretty sure he should just skip over the 'sex' bit, he had no idea if he would actually be able to say the word aloud, _especially_ to Ron and Hermione. He knew them both, and he knew that neither of them had even snogged anyone yet.

Harry moved a bit fast, didn't he?

Well, so had Draco.

So... the baby steps were... "I have a boyfriend", "I'm in love", "I'm in love with Draco Malfoy", "Draco Malfoy's a Death Eater," and "I'm going to be a father".

How many steps were that? Five? Five steps were good, right?

Harry told Draco the whole plan and Draco had laughed for about fifteen minutes. Draco was many things but he certainly was not encouraging.

At least he involved Harry, although it was a very morbid thing he was doing and he refused to tell Harry who he was going to kill. Every one in a while when they met he would say things like "Do you suppose wood can hold over seventeen spells?" or "Would you rather choke someone to death or turn their blood into mud?"

Actually, Harry had told Draco to stop involving him.

Draco promised Harry that he wasn't going to kill anyone, but he had to at least look like he was making progress for the Dark Lord's spy in Hogsmeade.

They had tons of things to talk about, they never ran out. The two of them had such different views on everything that had happened in their lives. They spent all the time they had together for six days talking about their duel in the second year. Harry had no idea that Draco had been incredibly nervous, but apparently his heart was pounding like a drum and he could barely think of any spells, so when Snape had whispered one into Draco's ear he'd actually botched it and made a snake appear out of thin air instead, very Dark magic a second-year should never be able to perform.

That sparked a slight obsession Draco began to have with Parseltongue, and he made Harry say several things in Parseltongue, eventually learning a few sayings himself. Draco was determined to learn the language, even if it was one which was inherited and not taught, so that he and Harry would have a way of communicating when no one else could understand. It was difficult at first for Harry to start speaking Parseltongue, but soon when Draco learned a few words he would say something first and then Harry would be talking in the snake language without even realizing it.

Draco still spoke very little about his past, but occasionally he opened up, sharing small stories with Harry which possessed a light hearted tone that his past really had no part of. Draco told Harry about the peacocks, how he was an expert on them. It took Harry a long time to get over the ridiculous idea of Draco growing up without a dog or a cat but _peacocks_.

And they also snogged, a lot. It was almost painful for them not to hold each other, not to kiss each other, not to be together all of the time. Draco, with the Invisibility Cloak, was soon sneaking in to sleep with Harry three nights a week and Harry started to keep his things cleaner.

Harry started Ron and Hermione on the 'baby steps' a few weeks after the start of term. This was a good time because Harry had finally gotten over the shock of learning he was a father and Hermione was over the fact that Harry had given up on his Invisibility Cloak, although Ron still moaned about it whenever he could.

…

** Savin' the babysteps for l8r.**

** Still sad... Edward... I luv you...**

**This is your review reminder. Review, pweez?**


	11. Chapter 11

** In a melancholy mood lately. Idk. Revive my spirits stupid website if you can...**

…

It had just stopped raining and they were outside, sitting on a few rocks, reading pages from a textbook which had been assigned to them for homework. The only time they could get fresh air without a fan club of Harry's following them around was right after or right before it had rained or when a day had been just miserable.

Ron was sprawled out against the rocks on a patch where there was some sun, squinting at his book, Hermione was laying on her stomach, reading with a smile as she throughly enjoyed learning, and Harry was sitting against one of the rocks, resting the book against his knees.

Harry shut his book, watching Ron and Hermione for a moment before he said a thing. When he thought things were most peaceful, Harry took a deep breath. "I have a boyfriend," he said.

Ron tripped even though he was lying down, falling on the dirt, and Hermione just looked up at Harry, jaw dropping. "Another one?" Ron asked.

"The same one," Harry told him, "we're back together."

"Wait!" Hermione shouted, sitting up, dropping her book in her shock. "_Another_ one? You've had one before!"

"The same one." Harry said.

"A... a _boy_friend?" Hermione stared.

Ron frowned at her. "Why a '_boy_friend', what's so weird about that?"

Hermione calmed down slightly. "Well, nothing I guess, not here anyways." She frowned at Harry, "I just never took you for... someone who likes boys."

"Boy, singular." Harry said, "It's just him."

"Well..." Hermione's brow furrowed, "Who is he?"

"That's third," Harry told them, "I can't say that yet."

"Why not? Hermione already knows your dating a bloke." Ron frowned.

"I... I'm introducing it to you by degrees," Harry confessed, "It was his idea. Sort of like... I go from the easiest to say and let you mull over it and then eventually the whole story comes out and you don't... faint or go crazy or something."

Hermione placed her hands on her hips indignantly. "Are you insulting our intelligence? Harry, we're your _friends_ we'll understand."

Harry stared at the two of them for a moment, thinking slowly. "I'm going to do it this way," Harry decided, burying his head in the textbook.

"Fine, tell us your next _degree_ tomorrow." Hermione demanded.

Harry shook his head, lifting the textbook up so it hid his face which was burning red with embarrassment.

"Harry, then _when_ are you going to do this? We've been friends for years, you can't just shut us out like this because your afraid of what we'll say. We stuck through first year together, remember, and then even last year when your scar kept hurting and everyone thought you were crazy and you saw those attacks from inside your head and-"

Ron cut her off with a loud, "Hey!" Turning to Harry, he offered, "You'll tell us the next degree on the fifteenth of October?"

That was four days away. "Sure," Harry said.

1

Four days went by far too quickly for Harry's liking, the only part which felt like a day being the times without Draco, but with Draco an hour took as long as a minute especially when they were snogging. Harry wondered if he would ever be free of cold showers.

"So," Hermione said, slamming her bag down on Harry's bed. Ron was on his own bed in the dorm, lying on his stomach and reading the Daily Prophet's obituaries, which left him in a sour disposition. Hermione scanned the room, seeing only one other person who didn't belong to the Golden Trio. "Seamus," she demanded, "Leave."

Seamus gave her a mock salute and did as she asked. When the door had slammed shut, Hermione spelled Harry's Potions textbook away. Harry had gotten into the habit of reading the Half-Blood Prince's notes in his spare time to avoid thinking of Draco and accidentally becoming aroused. He was at two showers a day, and he did not want to bring it up to more.

"So," Hermione said, "It's the fifteenth of October."

Ron gratefully put down the obituaries. He walked over to the other side of the room and sat down on Harry's bed along with Hermione, both looking at Harry expectantly.

Harry had to look at the wall in order to say it. "The next thing is... well... I... I love him."

Ron seemed very disappointed, having expected something better than that. Hermione, on the other hand, threw her arms around Harry in a bone-crushing hug. "That's so sweet!" Hermione cried, "_That_ was one of your degrees? Oh, Harry!"

"I... can't breathe..." Harry choked.

Hermione let go of him. "Harry, that's the absolute most... _sweetest_ thing I've ever heard you say!"

"So, you're not weirded out about the boyfriend anymore?" Harry asked her.

"No, not at all, I mean, this _is _a whole different culture, and I _am _a witch and even one of the girls in my room has two mothers." Hermione grinned.

"Really?" Ron said, "I've heard that they're the best snoggers!" He said this with a rather whimsical look on his face before he saw Harry and Hermione staring at him incredulously. "What? Charlie told me that, he dated one, his only other girlfriend before Fleur."

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron. She thought of something and she turned to Harry. "Do you two ever... you know... snog?"

Harry chuckled, leaning back against his pillows and nodding.

"Is he better than Chang?" Ron pressed.

"_Much _better than Chang, a hundred thousand times better than Chang," Harry sighed.

Hermione blushed a bit, but she asked, "Do you snog a lot?"

Harry nodded.

Ron grinned, "Lots of cold showers then, right?" Harry just grimaced.

Hermione stared at Ron in confusion. "Why cold showers?" She asked.

Ron turned red. "Well... well..." he stammered, "Guys sorta... have to... when... when we..." He made a very awkward motion and then it was Hermione's turn to turn red.

"Oh," was all she said.

1

Harry met Draco after classes a day later, sneaking into an empty classroom to tell Draco how Ron and Hermione had reacted to 'baby step two'. He told Draco everything, even Hermione's reaction to what Ron had said, and when Draco had stopped laughing Harry tried to tell him something but Draco had wrapped his arms around Harry in a heated kiss and Harry'd forgotten what he was saying.

Harry loved to touch Draco's stomach, feeling the bulge through the fabric. Even as his lips connected with Draco, Draco's fingers tangled in Harry's hair, he loved to hold Draco, to feel the child inside him and to realize with wonder again and again that he had a child.

Harry sat back on the abandoned teacher's desk, pulling Draco on top of him so that Draco straddled him with his hips, their groins rubbing against each other in that perfect way Harry knew he would regret later when he wobbled back to the Gryffindor dormitories. Harry leaned back, sucking on Draco's lower lip, forcing him to come nearer, get closer, until he could feel Draco's warmth all over him.

Brashly Draco grabbed Harry's hair, pulling Harry toward him in a bruising kiss. Harry moaned, lifting his hips up slightly so that his hardening length could feel Draco's against it. His whole body ached as he kissed Draco, passionately, bodies entwined together.

Draco's lips left Harry's, kissing his cheek, adorning Harry's face with light touches even as Harry tried to capture their lips together again. Draco kissed Harry's neck, face pressed against his. Harry reached up to pull Draco to his lips once more but Draco moved his hips, creating friction between their throbbing groins.

"How long's it been since we've had sex?" Draco sighed, hot breath against Harry's ear. "Four... no, five months?" He kissed Harry again, pressing himself against Harry's length again to make him moan in pleasure. "Too long."

Harry whole-heartedly, with all his being, agreed. He could feel blood rushing through him as he thought about it and words had long since left so he could only nod and groan in agreement.

Draco smiled, kissing Harry again. As their lips moved against each other with fervent passion Draco's fingers went to Harry's shoulders, sliding off his robes. Cool fingers touched Harry's shirt, maroon for Gryffindor, and slid underneath to Harry's hot skin, arousing him even more. He lifted Harry's shirt, prepared to rip it off of him, giving him another, burning kiss.

"You, students! Out of this classroom!"

Draco jumped off of Harry, standing up, gaze widening as he saw who it was.

Harry was slower, sitting up with another moan as he realized how stiff his back had been on the desk.

Filch, hunched over, glared at them with fury as his cat, Mrs. Norris, circled his feet. "School is _not _a place for this! You mangy, hormonal boys!"

Harry's jaw just dropped and he was completely at a blank for what to do.

"I'll report you for detention so instead of throwing yourselves at each other you can clean Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewt cages and I'll boil your hides!" He grinned at the thought, yellowish teeth sticking out, the same shade as on his cat. "What a day it is in Hogwarts when a Slytherin and a Gryffindor are-"

"Obliviate!" Draco shouted, keeping a far cooler head than Harry. He said it again for good measure, his wand pointed at Mrs. Norris. Filch, blinking rapidly, backed up and Draco knew he only had a few seconds. He jumped to his back, throwing it over his shoulder and grabbing the Invisibility Cloak, throwing it over him and Harry.

Filch, regaining some concept of self, stared into the room, ugly wrinkles marking his face as he tried, vainly, to remember why he'd entered in the first place. There was a long, uncomfortable pause while Harry prayed Filch wouldn't notice the large, missing, chunk of the teacher's desk which was under the Invisibility Cloak.

Thankfully, Filch didn't, because Mrs. Norris, from the shock of the Memory-Erasing Charm, stumbled where she was and fell with a coughing meow onto Filch's shoe. With apologies and sticky-sweet promises of cat nip, Filch picked her up and, crooning, left the room at an awkward jog.

Only when they were certain Filch was gone did Harry and Draco breathe a sigh of relief. For Harry it only reminded him of how hard he had gotten and how much he throbbed to hold onto Draco.

Alone, Harry pulled Draco toward him, trying to kiss him but Draco turned his head and Harry's lips connected with Draco's cheek. "What's wrong?" Harry asked, quizzically. "We were... we were going to-"

"You have Quidditch practice in an hour," Draco told him, frowning at a clock on the wall. "Harry, you have to get to your team."

"So, I'm the captain, I'll cancel it," Harry said, hot breath connecting with Draco's ear. "C'mon," he mumbled desperately, feeling Draco lean away from his touch.

"I'd truly love to, Harry, but I'm not letting you dodge all your responsibilities," Draco informed him. His face contorted as if with pain as he pushed himself out of Harry's grasp. He picked up the Invisibility Cloak from where it had fallen on the floor, placing it back in his bag. "Besides, I like to watch you fly."

"_You're _my responsibility," Harry entreated, "not bloody Quidditch."

"Now that is not you speaking Harry," Draco told him, "that is the little part of your mind with no self control."

"_Please_," Harry pleaded, dropping to his knees for good measure.

"No," Draco told him.

"_Please_," Harry repeated.

"No, now stand up." Harry didn't so Draco grabbed Harry's shoulders, forcing him to stand. Harry stared at Draco sadly, not realizing the effect his brilliant green eyes were having to wearing Draco down. "No," Draco somehow managed to say. "I'm still pregnant and I'm already showing and getting rather fat-"

"I don't think you're fat," Harry said, wrapping his arms around Draco in a warm embrace.

"Besides, you haven't told Weasley and Granger yet, and I don't want the Dark Lord sensing something."

"So... _never_?" Harry asked in horror.

"Not never," Draco told him, "Just not yet, I'm sorry."

1

Harry came out of the shower shivering. He would have buried himself in his covers if he didn't have Quidditch in fifteen minutes, so Harry rummaged through his things, throwing the clothes he needed on the bed with trembling hands.

"Wow, your boyfriend is cruel," Ron commented. He was on the other side of the room, slipping on his guards for practice.

"You have no idea," Harry said as his teeth chattered, pulling on his green shirt.

"Do you ever wank instead?" Ron asked him.

Harry's hands froze over his arm guards. He'd never even thought of that before. He'd never wanked, he was probably the only Gryffindor his age to have had sex but he'd never wanked before.

Harry was reassured of his naivety when he tried that night, dropping his hand under his trousers, touching his member. He couldn't work up any emotion, despite how it felt, Harry knew it was much more pleasurable to simply kiss Draco and he abandoned it quickly, resigning to another cold shower in the morning.

1

The four days had past until finally the dreaded day had arrived. Not knowing what to say, Harry avoided Ron and Hermione until long after classes.

They cornered him in the library. Before he told them, he made them leave because he didn't want the librarian screaming at them for shouting. Harry knew, beyond a doubt, that there would be shouting.

The west tower was rarely ever populated with people and it was only a few hallways and one staircase which may or may not be there away from the library, so Harry took them down there.

Seeing a bench, Hermione stopped them, sitting Harry down on it and plopping down beside him. Ron sat on Harry's other side and they both stared expectantly at him. "The third one," Hermione reminded Harry, "You're going to tell us who he is."

"Right." Harry said, steeling himself. He stared for a long moment at the tapestry on the other wall. It was of a man being torn apart by centaurs and it did not help Harry's mood.

"Any day now, Harry," Ron pressed.

"Right," Harry repeated, closing his eyes. He clutched the sides of his robes, his knuckles turning white.

"It's not... it's not really _bad_, is it? It's not like... like Grueston, right?" Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head, trying not to imagine whatever Hermione had been thinking. He took few deep breaths, repeating what he was going to say in his mind. When he spoke he abandoned the entire paragraph he'd memorized for this and only said two words, "Draco Malfoy."

Hermione froze, and Ron laughed nervously. "As in... absolutely, completely, most assuredly, beyond a single doubt _not_ Malfoy, right?" Ron tried.

"No... I... he's not as bad as you think." Harry said.

"No!" Ron shouted, "He _is _as bad as we think! You've been snogging _MALFOY_!" Ron jumped to his feet, "Harry! For YEARS he's HATED us! We've been enemies since the beginning of school! You can't just switch and DECIDE TO BLOODY SNOG!"

"Ron, I... I really do, I love Draco." Harry told him.

"What? No, no you don't!"

Harry glared at him, "_Yes_, I do!"

"No! No! I _know_ you, Harry, you're my best friend, and you are _not_ in love with MALFOY!" Ron shouted, chest heaving.

"I agree with Ron," Hermione said.

Harry stared at them, the bitter feeling betrayal clawing at his insides. "Ron, Hermione, _please_," Harry begged.

"Harry, I..." Hermione said softly, "I think Malfoy's a Death Eater. I... I watched him a lot at the beginning of the year, before you gave up on the Invisibility Cloak and although... now I know why you gave it to him... Harry I am... I am _certain_ Malfoy is a Death Eater."

"I know," Harry told them, "I was going to... that was the fourth degree. He told me."

Ron's eyes widened. "Of course," he said, "It makes perfect sense, his parents are both Death Eaters, no one else but Crabbe and Goyle can say that and I wouldn't trust them with a hairpin. You-Know-Who must have planted Malfoy here! Malfoy told you to gain your trust!" Ron grabbed Harry's shoulders, shaking him, "Harry! Malfoy's working for You-Know-Who, this is probably just some big sceme to-"

"Draco's pregnant," Harry interrupted.

Ron's arms dropped and he stepped back, speechless. Stumbling, he fell onto the floor, staring at Harry in horror.

"_What_?" Hermione shouted.

"He's... er," Harry stared down at the floor, "we're five months into it, he's showing a bit."

Ron completely froze as if he were petrified.

"Harry... but then, last year you would have had to..." Hermione trailed off.

Harry only nodded. "And then I thought what you were thinking, that Voldemort had planted Draco for me, but, I was wrong, I was very, very wrong." Harry's face became shrouded in shadow. "After Sirius died I... I wasn't thinking straight and I didn't know about the child so... so I shouted at him. I told Draco I never wanted to see him again, I... I'd promised him that I would take him home with me to the Dursley's so he wouldn't have to go home with his memories; Draco was certain Voldemort would kill him. And then I left him. _I_ did it, I didn't take him home with me, I left Draco and then Voldemort found him. He knew right away that Draco was pregnant and he tortured him. It's my fault, I did it to him and now Draco's a Death Eater, _I _made him that you can't blame him. Draco was only trying to save Adam's life."

Hermione, in an incredible gesture of kindness, placed her gently hand on Harry's shoulder. "Adam?" She asked.

"Uh... the baby," Harry told her, "it's a boy."

Hermione smiled. "Congratulations."

Harry grinned at her, animatedly, he said, "You should see Draco's stomach, it's only been five months but he's already huge, although don't tell Draco I said that because he's already paranoid that he's getting fat." Harry continued, trying to smile, "Yesterday, we were studying for the Transfigurations test and I had my hand on Draco's stomach and I _swear_ I felt something."

Hermione nodded at Harry. "This is going to take some getting used to but... if you're _sure_ Harry then, then I'm willing to do it." She shifted in her seat, "So, Adam... what?"

"Adam Scorpius Potter," Harry told her excitedly. "We're going to be Potters, Draco agreed. Harry and Draco Potter!"

"_Draco Potter..._" Ron repeated weakly.

"I... er..." Harry didn't know if this was a good time to bring it up but he said it anyway, "I kinda wanted one of you to be the god parent..."

"I'll do it," Hermione accepted, a grin actually sliding to her face. "I've... I've really always wanted to be a godmother," she said, "And Malfoy's okay with that?"

"Well, who would Malfoy choose?" Harry said sadly, "I don't think there's anyone in his family not a Death Eater... except his aunt, Andromeda Tonks."

Ron finally caught onto something he could use to pull himself out of the shock. "Malfoy's related to Tonks?"

"He's a Black on his mother's side," Harry reminded them. His grin faded as he thought about it, "His mother was a Black before she married."

Ron stared at Harry, "You realize this means that _Lucius Malfoy_ is going to be your child's grandfather."

"Yes," Harry nodded, "I know."

"And that the woman the portrait is of in Grimmauld's Place, _that's_ your child's great great aunt." Ron told him.

Harry's brow furrowed as he realized that. "Yes."

"Ron, is this really necessary?" Hermione asked him with a frown.

Ron nodded. "One more," he said, "Harry, _Bellatrix Lestrange_ is Malfoy's _aunt_."

"No she's not," Harry said quickly, without thinking.

"Yes," Ron told him, "She is. She is Narcissa Malfoy's sister and Andromeda Tonk's sister, and Tonk's aunt too. Bellatrix Lestrange _killed_ Sirius and she tortured Neville's parents, remember? And this person is Draco Malfoy's _aunt_."

Harry had to tell them, and he did. "Bellatrix Lestrange isn't Draco's aunt," he told them. Before Ron could protest Harry continued, "She's his mother."

Ron's jaw dropped and again he was rendered speechless. Hermione was the one who asked, "_What?_"

"Lucius Malfoy had an affair with Bellatrix Lestrange, a year and a few months before the end of the war. Draco never... never even spoke to his mother until this summer, Death Eaters aren't allowed to communicate with the outside." Harry frowned, thinking, "Bellatrix wasn't half as crazy as she was when she went in Azkaban then when she came out. For over fifteen years she never got to see her son, never got to hear anything from him or even about him, she was in Azkaban only with her worst memories and she never saw her son's face."

"That's... that's terrible," Hermione realized.

"They didn't recognize each other when they met," Harry told her. "I know she killed Sirius but she's... she's Draco's mother and I... I..."

"Can't help but feel sorry for her," Ron finished.

Harry nodded. "I can't imagine never even being able to hold Adam."

"That's why you kept it a secret," Hermione realized. "If anyone knew about the two of you then Malfoy would be under the public eye just as much as you were and someone would find out he was a Death Eater. Malfoy'd be sent to Azkaban."

"We can't tell _anyone_, except for... well, Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange, no one knows that Draco's pregnant." Harry warned, "I... I don't know what I'd do if..."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione wrapped her arms around him, hugging him.

…

**This is your review reminder. Review, pweez?**


	12. Chapter 12

…

Draco was just walking to the kitchen to try to get hot chocolate and marshmallows, which he'd been craving for the entire day and had just given into, when Hermione Granger walked up to him and held out her hand.

"I'm Hermione," she introduced.

Draco took her hand nervously. "Draco," he said, squinting at her in preparation for a hex.

_ Hermione _smiled at him. "I'm Adam's godmother, do you mind?"

"Mind?" Draco's face lit up, "Not at all, _thank you_!" He pulled Hermione toward him, wrapping her in a grateful hug. "You're _infinitely_ better than Weasley."

"Well then," Hermione pulled herself out of his grip and grinned, "Where are you off to at this late hour?"

Draco blushed. "I..." he stuttered, "I've been craving... and I... so I thought-"

"I'll walk with you to the kitchens," Hermione offered and allowed Draco no opportunity to protest, taking his arm and continuing down with him.

1

It took Harry and Hermione a long time to even _get _Draco and Ron in the same room. Even then the combined efforts of the two of them could not bring them to be polite to each other no matter how much they tried. If, during fifteen minutes that they were together, Draco and Ron did not fire off fifty insults and/or Draco mumbled the chorus of 'Weasley is Our King' and/or Draco insulted Ron's parents and entire family and/or Ron insulted Draco's Quidditch skills or vice versa and/or Ron made a scathing comment about Draco being a bastard, then Harry knew he was dreaming.

The four of them met in the Room of Requirement when it was easiest, and they studied together or merely hung out. That was where Harry informed them about the Horcrux's and everything else which happened during his private sessions with Dumbledore, much to Ron's eternal disapproval. The Room of Requirement kept its place as a haven even into this year, because Ron was horrified to learn that Harry had been sneaking Draco into the Gryffindor dormitories and would not, under pain of death, allow Draco back inside there except to spend the night with Harry, and even then he disapproved. Although he gave his negative opinion almost every day, Ron didn't say anything when he saw Harry clean his things up during the day, signifying Draco's arrival, or even on Halloween, when Harry snuck back in the room very late with a satisfied and joyous look on his face, his messed-up hair sticking up in the back and his every motion practically screaming 'I've just had sex'.

Harry and Draco always found their way to the Room of Requirement first, mysteriously, and spent a long time snogging then before they talked. If Hermione entered next she would announce her presence by clearing her throat and the two would, perhaps, kiss again, but stop and ask her how her day went or just talk until Ron came. If Ron entered the room before Hermione everything was very awkward.

On the twelfth of November, Ron and Hermione both noticed that Draco and Harry completely missed the latter half of classes and Hermione became worried. Ron, the next day, had to blushingly inform her that Harry had come back to the dorm at ten that night exactly as he had done on Halloween.

Ron and Hermione did their best to ignore those moments, but it did make them painfully aware that they'd never even snogged before while their best friend was expecting a child.

Although Harry soon had quite a lot of worries.

First, Dumbledore's lessons, the search for the Horcux's seemed to grow more intense every lesson, although they were few and inconvenient. The mystery of Tom Marvolo Riddle was unraveling, and while Harry was certainly grateful it was also very strange.

Second, the obituaries in the Daily Prophet kept getting longer and longer, including more people. Some students would just break into tears during breakfast and had to be sent away, because although the teachers tried to get the news first so they could inform the students of deaths in the family privately, the Daily Prophet was truly the first to tell. Harry knew Ron scanned the Prophet every day to see if one of his family members and Harry almost felt guilty, each and every morning.

Third, and always on Harry's mind, was Draco. Draco was at six months and starting to get very worried, he was also much bigger than Harry'd expected and it had been an incredible shock for Harry when he learned that Draco could be having the baby at any time now. Draco was certainly big enough and magical pregnancies were apparently very strange and inconsistent when it came to months spent pregnant. And that meant that Draco was miserable, on edge at every moment, and in pain. His ankles had swollen, his stomach bore angry marks, and he was so, absolutely, tired all of the time that Harry felt terrible even looking at him. And Harry had to keep the little part of his brain with no self control that just wanted to ravish Draco and make love to him every day from surfacing when Draco was so miserable. Draco had done all he could, created several 'plans of attack', thought up hundreds of ways to kill whoever it was he was supposed to kill, and he said something about having to avoid the Vanishing Cabinet idea because it was too likely to work, and even that was a very pitiful amount of work to show for. On a visit to Hogsmeade he'd given the plans, in written form, to the informant who he refused to identify to Harry, and they both hoped desperately that those would be enough to satisfy Voldemort.

Fourth, and least important of all, Harry was a bit worried about Quidditch. Their first match, against Slytherin, had been a complete blowout because the Slytherin beaters did not play well and their Seeker fell off of her broom and had to be forced back into it, and then closed her eyes from fear and could not see at all. Apparently they'd chosen her because her uncle was a professional Quidditch Seeker and they'd hoped she'd have a stroke of brilliance. Needless to say, she didn't and neither did the rest of them. Thescore ended that day with Slytherin having a total of ten points, so every Slytherin which could breathe hated Draco.

Fifth, and at many times the most important of all, Harry had no idea how to be a father. He didn't even know how to hold a baby. He had so many questions, how did they feed the baby? How would they wash the baby? Where would they keep the baby when they were at school? What would the baby look like? What would the birth be like? Did Draco know how to change it because Harry didn't, and if the baby started crying how would Harry know what to do?

Draco didn't answer all of these questions when Harry asked, but one day he threw his arms around Harry during an emotional breakdown brought on by his change in hormones and cried that he had no idea what to do either, having only _seen_ a baby in passing while he walked down Diagon Alley.

For that worry Harry could not find any comfort.

And then Draco told him that he wouldn't be staying at Hogwarts for Christmas, because he had to go home to Malfoy Manor. Voldemort wanted to see him.

Harry had blatantly refused, had shouted at him, had kissed him, had done everything he could to change Draco's mind. But Draco was a Death Eater, he had to go when Voldemort called or else the Dark Lord would torture him through the Dark Mark. They both knew Draco had to go, and it terrified them.

Draco insisted on going, insisted that his Occlumency was good enough, insisted that his mother would protect him, and he insisted that Harry stopped worrying.

So, when the Christmas break came, they both, choosing Floo Powder, went their separate ways. Harry went to the Weasley's house along with Ron, to spend a Christmas with them, and Draco went to Malfoy Manor where his mother would be waiting for him.

1

Harry didn't eat at all for the first couple of days. He avoided the dinner table, with its cheer and its fun, and he even slept in and then retired early on Christmas. Ron and Hermione had to make up several excuses for him, which thoroughly wore them out, and they brought all of Harry's food up to him, the majority of which they threw out anyway. Ron thought Harry was being stupid. Hermione however, understood, and she let Harry do what he was doing.

Three days before the end of break, Harry got a small note in Draco's handwriting. '_Leaky Cauldron. Potter.'_

Harry told Mr. and Mrs. Weasley that Dumbledore needed him back at Hogwarts for something very important, packed his things, and took the Floo Powder to the Leaky Cauldron.

1

"Ah, Mr. Potter, would you like to stay a room?" Tom, the bartender asked as Harry materialized in one of the fireplaces with a suitcase.

Harry stumbled out of the fireplace, coughing, ash clinging to his skin. Nodding at Tom, he choked out, "Someone I know is here; I'm meeting him."

"Who would that be?" Tom mumbled, hunching over the list of rooms for the second through eleventh floors. "There's... let's see... oh, here a D. A. Potter staying in room three-twelve."

"That would be it," Harry nodded, "thank you." The stairs knew where Harry was going and they sped up his arrival to the third floor. Harry did not have to walk far before he reached the twelfth door. Three-twelve was inscribed on it with slightly faded gold lettering, and Harry, taking a deep breath, knocked.

There was slight shuffling behind the door and it opened a crack, locking charms dispelling. Taking a moment, the door flung open wide and Harry found his arms full of Draco Malfoy.

He wrapped his arms around him, kissing Draco's cheek, so glad to see him, alive at least, and Draco trembled in Harry's arms.

Harry pulled himself into the room, a crowded space with a bed, dresser, table, and desk, with a bathroom off the side. He threw his suitcase down on the floor and sat down on the bed, pulling Draco toward him.

Horrendously pale, eyes encompassed by dark ringlets, his form slight, Draco looked terrible, but Harry didn't say so. "I missed you," Harry told him.

"I... I..." Draco couldn't get the words out. Shaking, he reached into Harry's pocket, pulling out his wand. Keeping his wand in Harry's hand, Draco pointed it to his own forehead and whispered, "Legimens."

_ "...you have nothing to be nervous about, do you, sweetheart?" Bellatrix Lestrange was asking. She was walking down a hallway, Draco beside her. _He was half as pale as he was when Harry had last seen him, but_ his face had a grim look to it. _

_ "No, mother," Draco told her. _

_ She placed her hand on his shoulder, halting them both as they walked. Her torn dress sprawled out on the floor around them, a wrap-up on her shoulders was frayed at the edges, static causing them to lean about, her hair was flung about her face in thousands of wild curls, and her eyes were heavily blacked with make-up that had smudged. She looked like an angel of death, the serious face condemning as she stared down at her son, pale and trembling from what he was about to face. "If you are faithful and loyal to our great Dark Lord then he will only reward you," she reminded him. She began to walk down the hallway again and Draco stumbled after her. "My little assassin," she cooed in an adoring tone, "how has your success been?" _

_ "He's not dead, if that's what you're asking." _

_ "We have to practice," Bellatrix told him happily. "The Cruciatus Curse, the Belterfrax Hex, the Living Death Curse," she grinned, "and the Mud Blood Curse, those are my favorites, did I teach them to you?" _

_ "You did," Draco nodded._

In the memory, Harry struggled to catch up to them as the world seemed to fluctuate, skipping parts and jumping back to a few so he only caught spare pieces of dialogue. The hallway they traveled in seemed endless, and Harry heard something about an _'underground' _but didn't see how_ the ornaments on the walls, the tapestries, and the ornate doors every few hundred feet _could be brought underground like this. He wanted to hold Draco, to help him walk as he saw _Draco stumble, difficult to move on his swollen stomach_. In the memory Harry was just a passive observer, completely helpless to do anything.

_ "How is Scorpius?" Bellatrix said before_ the memory jumped forward.

_ "No, mother, I promise I-"_

_ "Nevermind, when-"_

_ "The Muggles in the-"_

_ "My sister Narcissa is a sadistic woman," Bellatrix Lestrange stopped at a door, twisting hair on her wand as she watched Draco, "It doesn't matter, I will see to it that you never have to suffer her presence again. Narcissa is dead to me, just as dearly departed Andromeda." _

_ "Aunt Andromeda is not dead," Draco reminded her._

_ "She married a Mudblood, she's as good as dead!" Bellatrix snapped, enraged. Her gaze softened quickly, "I do hope you come to understand your role as a Death Eater, I know you're reluctant, Draco, but you do understand, don't you?" She took Draco's head in her hands. _

_ Draco nodded. "To uphold the Dark Lord's word and to serve him, to give our bodies in dedication to the Great Purpose," he recited. _

_ Bellatrix grinned broadly. "Yes," she said, "you are a perfect legacy. You are a Death Eater, the son Rudolphus gave me was a worthless Squib, but you will obey the Dark Lord, destroy the Great Enemy, won't you?" _

_ "Do you ever think..." Draco's voice caught in his throat, but he managed to continue, "that maybe the Dark Lord is setting me up to fail? Greater wizards have tried to kill-_

The entire memory became black in shadow as Draco hid the name of the person he was meant to assassinate. It cut, rapidly, enough to make Harry feel sick, until_ the door in front of Bellatrix and Draco was open. They were in a room, the walls slick and black, shining by the light of several candles __which hovered overhead, bare of anything. Voldemort was there, Nagini curled around his feet. He'd been staring at the other side of the room but he turned as the door opened, seeing Bellatrix and Draco. _

_ "My Death Eaters," Voldemort hissed, "welcome. Most welcome." _

_ "My lord," Bellatrix crooned, performing a graceful curtsy, holding the tattered dress with perfectly manicured nails painted as red as blood. "I was most honored by your invitation for my son." _

_ "Your son, Bellatrix, is welcome as long as he is faithful." Voldemort's slitted eyes flashed and he stared directly at Draco. "But Draco Abraxas Malfoy has not been faithful, have you?" In a flash of smoke he was directly in front of Draco, glaring at him. "Potter," Voldemort spat like a curse. _

_ Turning away, he slid to Bellatrix. "If you can bear the sight of your son being tortured I would ask your services as my most skilled torturer," Voldemort asked of her._

Harry, watching the memory, had a vicious start. He stared at Draco's terrified face, his hands holding the swollen stomach protectively, and Harry shouted, wordlessly, aloud in defiance of what he knew would happen.

_ Bellatrix curtseyed again, her gaze on the floor. With halted lips, she whispered, "I would beg to be excused, my lord." Her eyes looked up and dared to meet Voldemort's. "I would only ask this if it would not disturb my place in your graces, otherwise I shall serve you, I only hesitate at the thought of causing pain to my own flesh and blood." _

_ "Leave!" Voldemort commanded. _

_ Bellatrix lifted her skirts, flying out of the room without a glance back. The doors slammed behind her as she left, Draco watching her go with expressionless eyes. And then it was Draco and __Voldemort alone _while Harry observed it as a memory.

_ "You allow Potter to trick you," Voldemort said, turning his back away from Draco. "With a few words of apology you accepted him back into your graces though you knew it would lead to this, punishment. Was this worth it? A few whispered words of love, never knowing if they're meant, an arm around you when you are cold?" _

_ "Yes," Draco told him. He dropped to his knees, observing Voldemort's reflection on the slick floor. _

_ "I suppose with a past such as yours you would run to any affection, but I did believe you intelligent, Draco Abraxas Malfoy." _

_ "I am intelligent." Draco frowned, "I learned every spell you asked me to, memorized every poison, I am younger and better than any assassin you have." _

_ "But you have not killed," Voldemort told him. He turned around, slitted eyes observing Draco. "Killing is difficult for the first time, but over time it grows easier, it becomes a part of you. It can make you immortal. You must kill." _

_ Draco glared at him. "You set me up to fail! It's impossible to kill him! Better Death Eaters and wizards have tried before, older, more powerful, even Grindewald tried and failed! How am I supposed to do it? You just want an excuse, to destroy me and my son!" _

_ Voldemort grinned. "Your son is already dead, I will kill it within the hour, the potion is being brewed as we speak. Now, Draco Abraxas Malfoy, we are bartering not for your life, but your sanity." _

_ "No, no, no, please!" Draco grabbed the edges of Voldemort's cloak. _

_ Voldemort kicked Draco, knocking him over to the side. "I will torture you until you resemble the Longbottoms whom your own mother destroyed, and then I will drop you in a Muggle wasteland and let them do what they will with your broken body. Perhaps I will lock you in a merciless prison, or send you to a land of plague and pigs, but most likely of all, I will drop you in a Muggle brothel, where you can be subject to the passions and the vicious, excruciating lusts of the vilest monsters of the lowest of Muggle kind." There was a vicious smirk on Voldemort's face._

"No you won't!" Harry screamed at Voldemort. He rushed at him, grabbing him, but his hands only passed through the Dark Lord like he was shadow. Stumbling, Harry fell against the floor.

_ "Please, my Lord, please," Draco begged, "have mercy." _

_ "Mercy? No one has shown you mercy before, why would you expect to receive it from me?" Voldemort laughing, raising his wand in front of Draco. "You will kill-_

Again, Draco stopped Harry from hearing the name.

_ "Please, I'm sixteen years old, he's a thousand times the wizard I am, what am I to do?" Draco pleaded, face drained of all color. _

_ "I will kill your child, Harry Potter's child, as a reminder of what I do to those who cross me, and I will hurt you, until you understand, Draco Abraxas Malfoy, that I am not just someone to be taken lightly. You cannot continue to give into Potter and expect no repercussions. You are my Death Eater." Voldemort's lip curled in disgust and Nagini hissed from her place beside him._

_ Draco smirked. "I love Harry, but you can't understand that, can you? It kills you inside that you cannot understand it. You're like me, used to knowing everything, to being logical, but you can't bring yourself to understand what doesn't seem logical." Draco shook his head, "But it is logical. I love Harry and he loves me. If it weren't for the war we'd likely have ditched school and be holed up in some quaint hotel somewhere, waiting for Adam to arrive." _

_ Draco laughed in Voldemort's face. "I can live, knowing that it's not my fault, I can hold onto that one thought, that Harry loves me. I may not be good at all with pain, but I can stand in front of you because I know Harry loves me, and you don't even know what that means." _

_ Calmly, Voldemort positioned his wand directly over Draco. "Crucio," he said quietly. _

Harry couldn't bear to look, or even to hear. He pressed his hands over his ears, trying to block out the screaming, but he was in Draco's memories and the walls twisted around him, the world shaking and distorting in agony.

Draco moved the memory forward.

_ "Nagini, where is Severus?" Voldemort asked. He turned, frowning for a moment. He took Draco's left forearm, pressing his wand against it to call Snape to him. _

_ Draco was battered. Bruises encompassed his face and his hands; any revealed skin was yellow and brown. His left arm, which Voldemort held, was clearly broken in two, the forearm separated from the upper. He gave no sound. Draco lay, limp, on the ground, lips slightly parted, eyes shut. Rivulets of dried tears shone around his eyes, small cuts ripped up skin on his face and hands. _

_ Snape Apparated into the room. Haughty and contemptuous as ever, he bent his head in respect to Voldemort, his eyes on Voldemort's presence with the calculated care of a mouse watching a hungry serpent. "Yes, my lord, I have the poison which you required." His fingers reached into his pocket, pulling out a vial. "I was on my way to deliver it as you sent your message; it is not like you to be impatient." _

_ "I was not," Voldemort informed him, "I was only certain that I could not spend any more minutes waiting for you or the potion will be for naught and I'll have already murdered the boy." _

_ Snape's eyes scanned the room, settling quickly on Draco. "Draco Malfoy," he breathed in shock, stepping backwards. _

_ Concealment charms and long robes had kept him from noticing Draco's swollen stomach earlier, and now Snape took in everything. Draco's broken body, the Dark Mark burned into his forearm, the very pregnant stomach and Draco's eyes, red from the blood inside them, eyes which painstakingly turned to look at the potions master. _

_ "Why Draco Malfoy? His mother is one of your greatest supporters-" Snape began to say._

_ "He carries a boy-child I wish dead," Voldemort told Snape. "I have utmost confidence in your brewing, which is second only to mine; please give our young Death Eater a drink." Voldemort's slitted eyes shone with mirth, "And let this serve as a reminder." _

_ Snape was visibly distraught. "This... my lord, with respect I have taught this boy for many years, since he was seven years old, I do not understand what this is. Why would you make a Death Eater of one so young?" _

_ "I needed an assassin in Hogwarts," Voldemort told him. "Draco Abraxas Malfoy did perfectly well, but he has a failure in applying himself to the task." _

_ "My, my lord, I do not think I can-"_

_ "I have seen you do worse, Severus, our young comrade is being taught a lesson." Voldemort leaned down to Draco's ear, so quiet that Snape could not hear him, but in Draco's memory the words seemed to scream off the walls in a terrible whisper. "If he dies by the end of the year, I shall dis-Mark you, young Malfoy."_

Voldemort said something else and Snape answered. Harry couldn't hear them, blood was burning throughout him and he shook with hatred. Tears dropped from Harry's eyes, falling through the floor below him. He couldn't see more, his heart was breaking as he watched and he longed to murder, the bloodlust he'd only felt once before clawing at his insides.

_ Severus Snape knelt beside Draco Malfoy. _

"Get away from him!" Harry screamed, "GET AWAY FROM HIM!"

_ "I'm very sorry," Snape said, lifting Draco's head slightly. Draco moaned in pain. _

_ Draco's lips, cracked and bloody, moved and his throat, horse with use, scratched but he whispered, "This doesn't make you win, your vendetta against Harry Potter is nothing more than your own paranoia." _

_ Voldemort's expression was only one of passive indifference. _

_ Snape raised the vial to Draco's lips and the poison slipped down Draco's throat. _

_ Turning away, Snape told Voldemort, "He's in no condition now to give birth, he could die." _

_ "I assign you the task of keeping him alive." Voldemort informed him. "I expect your report within the next few days." His black cloak swirled and Nagini slid after him. The door slammed open, and Voldemort left, the door shutting behind him with a loud ring. _

_ Snape waited several moments. _

_ When something seemed to announce that it was safe, he grabbed his wand, pointing it at Draco's arm. "Episky," he mumbled._

_ There was a sickening crack as Draco's arm moved; sliding back into place and _Harry winced. _Draco only moaned. _

_ Snape sat down. He straightened Draco out carefully, stopping whenever he cried out. With painstaking perfection, Snape pulled off his own cloak and lay it on the ground, setting it under Draco's head. "Is anything else broken?" Snape demanded. _

_ Draco didn't answer, grimacing at the noise his voice made. _

_ Lowering his pitch, Snape said, "This is very important, Draco, in a few moments you know what will start to happen and if you have any cracked ribs you could very likely die." _

_ "Adam," Draco whispered. _

_ "Listen to me!" _

_ Draco gasped, forcing air into his lungs. "Not, nothing..." _

_ "Good," Snape mumbled. He whispered a few spells, the wand pointed to Draco's bruised skin, but his efforts only partially restored Draco's pallor. Snape reached into his shirt, instinctively grabbing for something with wasn't there and he cursed loudly when his hand came back empty. _

_ Draco suddenly let out a shout, his hand flying to his stomach. _

_ "I cannot give you anything to dull the pain," Snape whispered to Draco. He took one of Draco's hands and he forced Draco to sit up. "I am not a midwife either; I don't know what to do to help you." _

_ "Kill me," Draco mumbled, "he's dead anyway." _

_ "Don't!" Snape shouted, "You are not going to die!" _

_ Draco grimaced in an attempt to smirk. "Because the Dark Lord told you to or because you care about me?" _

_ "Draco- Snape started to say but he was cut off as the dream sped forward. _

…

**This is your review reminder. Review, pweez?**


	13. Chapter 13

** Harry, staring through the shadows of memory whirling around him, could see and hear flashes of screaming, whispered words, before it settled again, the world around the memory hazy. **

_ Snape held the dead child in his arms, standing away from Draco. Draco appeared as if he was soon to join the baby, he gasped pitifully for breath and tears crawled down his cheeks. _

_ "A handsome child," Snape told Draco. Draco's eyes were red from blood and _judging by the unclear view of the memory Draco could barely see. _"He has black hair, tangled, his face is very round, but he's very small. His fingers-" _

_ "His eyes..." Draco whispered slowly, voice barely audible, "What color?" _

_ "Gray," Snape said, "like yours." _

_ Draco frowned at the floor, his eyes shut _and the entire memory became black, only the words could be heard. _"I'd hoped they were like his father's," Draco mumbled._

_ "Maybe the other," Snape told him, "just pray it's not a boy." _

_ Draco screamed with pain. _

"What?" Harry whispered.

With sudden, sickening disorientation Harry found himself back in the apartment in the Leaky Cauldron. It was the same, crowded, place, the afternoon light bursting in from the window. Harry gasped in shock, feeling like he'd been thrown into a dark pit for years and had just been unmercilessly released back to a world of color.

There was a crying sound coming from an open drawer in the dresser. Draco was standing up, reaching into it. Gingerly he lifted up a small form, a tiny child, wrapped in a worn blanket, kicking at his hands.

Harry jumped to his feet, rushing over to them. With a shaking hand he reached out and lifted a corner of the blanket from the baby's face.

She was perfect.

Her hair was as messy as Harry's, tangled and untamed even as young as she was, but it was blonde, as white as Draco's. Her eyes blinked up at Harry, brilliant and startling green. A tiny ear on her face was red as she whimpered and her round, cherry lips formed a pout. A hand, so small, every little detail, from the fingers to the nail immaculate, reached up and grasped Harry's shirt.

Before Harry could even stop wondering Draco placed her in his arms. Harry held her awkwardly, wrapping his arms around her to protect her from falling. His lips formed words but he couldn't speak them.

"I never through there would be two," Draco told him, "no one did. That was what protected her, and because she's a girl she was safe while Ada... Adam wasn't."

Tears fell down Harry's face and he looked at Draco, "She's beautiful."

Draco smiled sadly, "We lost a child but we got one too." He crossed his arms, shuffling his feet. He said his words rapidly to force them out, "I named her. She's about a week old and I had to, you can change it if you like, I don't think I was thinking straight..."

Harry smiled at him. He stared back down at the baby girl. "What's her name?"

"Vendetta Grace."

Harry frowned slightly. "Why?" he asked.

"I thought... Vendetta would be appropriate, I couldn't think of any Muggle girl names, and I didn't remember the one I'd picked last summer in case Adam..." his breath caught in his throat.

"Vendetta Grace Potter," Harry whispered. He grinned down at her despite the tears threatening to fall down his cheeks, "I like it. It really sounds... wizard-like, a name that isn't a name." Harry looked up at Draco, "What happened, with Snape, after you had her?"

Draco's brow furrowed in confusion. "It's foggy," he confessed, "Snape said something about the Dark Lord only asking for a boy-child, he took Adam's body, and he forced me to Apparate. I was... I forget, but I had to walk for a day to get to Diagon Alley, through Muggle territory." Draco was still Draco, and at the word 'Muggle' he visibly shivered with disgust. "I stole to get food, but I came here to the Leaky Cauldron and I got a room, I told Tom I'd pay when I left."

"I have more than enough money," Harry told him. Staring down at Vendetta's tiny form in amazement Harry whispered, "I have a baby girl."

"I'm sorry," Draco lowered his head, "I couldn't do anything about Adam, I tried, I tried to get away from the Dark Lord, I tried to hex him, but he was stronger, and faster, and I... my Occlumency didn't..."

"Thank you, Draco," Harry hugged him strangely, still holding Vendetta in his hands. They stayed there for a long moment, reveling in the warmth of their touch, before Vendetta let out a shrill cry.

Harry started to panic. "What do I do?" He stumbled around, holding her tightly in his arms, "Does she-"

Draco snatched her from his hands. "She's hungry," he told her, "I haven't fed her lunch yet and she knows it." He pulled open another drawer on the dresser, revealing a number of child supplies. A bottle, prefilled with a white liquid which wasn't quite milk, was inside. Holding Vendetta skillfully in one hand, he held the bottle up to her lips and the cries stopped immediately.

"She's going to be a handful," Harry said happily. "How're we going to take care of her at school?"

Draco had no answer.

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco's shoulder. "It'll be alright," he whispered against Draco's ear, "I promise."

Draco leaned into his touch, clutching Harry's shirt with a free hand. "I know," Draco said quietly. Their eyes met, Draco's full of pain and fear, but there was trust as well.

"I'll protect you," Harry promised, and he meant it.

0

Hermione and Weasley spotted Draco as soon as he spotted them.

They'd just come out of one of the firepits, and Draco had been waiting for them by the door. Making no motion to them, he'd walked away, leading them to an abandoned classroom well enough away from the activity of the students returning from break so that they would not be overheard.

It was Weasley, not Hermione, who noticed the difference immediately. "How you improved your Concealing Charm or are you just thinner?"

"Thinner," Draco frowned at him, "Though I was pregnant before so it doesn't constitute as being fat."

"Merlin," Weasley mumbled.

Hermione let out a happy noise and she wrapped her arms around Draco's neck. "Congratulations!" She shouted, "I can't believe, is that why you sent for Harry-"

"No," Draco told her, "I had the children in the Dark Lord's fortress."

Hermione was speechless; it was only because Weasley still disliked Draco that he was able to speak. "More than one?"

"Twins," Draco said, "A boy and a girl, Adam died but Vendetta is alive, Harry's with her, he's testing the Room of Requirement."

"'Vendetta'? That's not a name." Weasley informed him.

"It is now," Draco drawled, "considering that's what we named her."

"Harry agreed?" Weasley's nose wrinkled.

Draco glared at him, "Yes, Harry agreed."

"The Room of Requirement?" Hermione spoke up, "Why don't you just ask Madam Pompfrey?"

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Madam Pompfrey's taken care of babies before," Hermione explained, "every once in a while a Hogwarts student gets pregnant, and it's written into the school's system that the children of the students are taken care of in the hospital wing until the student graduates, so they don't miss any education. I remember, third year, a seventh year girl had her son there, but I'm pretty sure no one's there now."

0

Draco asked Madam Pompfrey and she readily agreed to take care of Vendetta. From the maternity room, next to her bedroom, and its colorful, moving paintings of giraffes and penguins, the small garden off to the side of room, to her overwhelming enthusiasm, Draco got the impression that she loved taking care of babies even more than she did the students of Hogwarts.

He and Harry were still a secret, so Draco couldn't tell her who the father was. He just agreed to visit Vendetta every day and to learn, from Madam Pompfrey, how to manually change a diaper to avoid giving the baby a magic-induced rash, how to hold her properly, what she would do when she got a bit older, and so many other things Draco didn't even know were involved in the care of a child.

If Harry wanted to see her he would have to sneak in, under the Invisibility Cloak, late at night.

Harry did, every night.

Draco, between classes and after classes, whenever he could take even five minutes away from studying, went to the hospital wing to talk to Madam Pompfrey and to hold Vendetta.

Harry and Draco hardly saw each other anymore. It was so difficult to find time that many days the closest they got to each other were sitting in classes. It was so hard to find a moment when they weren't studying, trying to see Vendetta, or Harry was at Quidditch practice, a game, or with Dumbledore. Draco would have given every bit of his time to be with Vendetta but at the cost of being with Harry he didn't know what he could do. The pressure of school mounted on him like a terrifying load, and Draco spent his nights sleepless, trying to avoid the memory of torture at the hands of Lord Voldemort.

He only had rest in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Snape didn't count any poor grade Draco received, he didn't ask for Draco's homework, and he conveniently forgot to report any time which Draco wasn't in class. Draco could not thank Professor Snape enough, for what he did for him in saving Vendetta's life and for being, as he'd always been, one of the few people Draco could count on to be kind to him.

But Draco missed Harry with every fiber of his being.

A stolen kiss as they rushed off to classes, an hour scraped together where they rushed to get all the words in, glances during class when they needed to pay attention, those were all Draco and Harry could get, although they longed to be near each other all of the time, to touch, to talk, to hold Vendetta's tiny hands and to bask in silence, they couldn't. No matter how hard they tried everything was tearing them apart.

Time passed quickly for them. Hours were nonexistent. Days were meaningless. Weeks made momentary presence. Months flew by with barely a notice.

Before Harry even understood what was happening, he left Hogwarts, in the middle of the night, with Dumbledore to find a Horcrux.

0

Draco was terrified of Lord Voldemort. The Dark Lord's shadow hung in his nightmares, his form like a ghost haunting Draco. He knew that if he had Harry everything would be alright, but it was the all-too-often time without Harry that scared him. It was the time where he'd remember how close he'd been, where paranoia seeped into his mind.

The Dark Lord could send things through the Dark Mark. Messages transmited only by pain. If the Mark ached he was displeased with you, if it burned he was calling you.

For Draco, the pain transmitted through the Dark Mark was incredible. Voldemort reminded Draco for hours every day that Draco belonged to him through the Cruciatus. Every day.

These were the times when Draco, in panic, worked on the Vanishing Cabinet until it was finished.

It was Professor Snape who told Draco that Dumbledore was gone for the night, he told Draco he would be coming back later, and by that time a team of Death Eaters would easily have taken the school and would be waiting for Dumbledore, waiting for Draco to finish him off.

Professor Snape told Draco to use the cabinet, he told him to do it right away.

Draco listened to him.

1

Hogwarts was under attack.

Harry held Dumbledore, supporting his weight. He wanted to rush inside the castle to see why the snake and skull hung over it, but Dumbledore's shaking frame gripped onto him. Dumbledore held the locket in his only good hand.

Harry saw a shadow, someone coming from the stairs. He was about to shout a warning to Dumbledore when he found himself falling down, sliding across the room. The Invisibility Cloak lay on top of him and Harry's arms and legs were tied with invisible cords, his jaw clenched shut of its own will.

Dumbledore, bravely, wheezing as he stood, straightened himself to face the person entering.

Draco Malfoy. Pale, hair slicked back with magic. In the moonlight he was illuminated, being something so white he looked unreal. His gray eyes were bright and concentrating, his hands shaking as he held his form straight, playing the part of the triumphant Death Eater.

"Expelliarmus!" Dumbledore's wand flew out of his hand and Draco caught it.

"Draco, so is this what it has come to?" Dumbledore frowned sadly at him, "You've managed to find a way to let Death Eaters into Hogwarts."

Draco smirked, "It's not a great achievement, you already let us in. Professor Snape's a Death Eater too. I'm a Death Eater, the youngest ever, and I just walked back into Hogwarts."

"Severus is my informant, and Draco, I knew about you," Dumbledore said.

"He works for the Dark Lord," Draco insisted. He stepped forward with Dumbledore's wand, threatening, but immediately stepped back.

Dumbledore shook his head, "No, Severus is on my side." He was so weak, so fragile. He clung to the edge of the tower, his half moon glasses sliding off his face as his eyes looked at Draco with gleaming pity.

"_Sides_!" Draco growled. "What do sides of the war even mean? On one side you blindly follow Lord Voldemort and on the other we follow you? Do we all just pick whether we're black sheep or white and then let the _two of you_ play your war game?"

"I don't..." Dumbledore coughed, his entire form rattling with agony. "I don't play games with lives."

"Well, you're about to loose yours. I was trained all last summer as an assassin, the best the Dark Lord had, and I was sent to kill you." Draco raised his wand level to Dumbledore. His eyes hardened.

"You're not a killer, Draco," Dumbledore entreated, "I _know_ about the child in the hospital wing. No killer visits their baby every day or loves like you, you cannot do this." He looked up at Draco, his eyes seeming to pierce straight through him.

Draco stepped back, frightened. Of course he was frightened, this was _Albus Dumbledore_. But Draco took a deep breath, gathering strength. "Do you know who her father is?"

"No," Dumbledore said, "I do not."

"_That's_ your problem then! You don't know how desperate I am. My daughter will be marked by Lord Voldemort; _she'll_ have to suffer like I did unless I do something! And the only thing the Dark Lord has asked of me is to kill you!" Draco shouted, "Avada Kedavra!"

Nothing happened.

"Draco, you don't want to do this." Dumbledore told him, "We can find a place for your family, a safe place, for your daughter and her father, you can be together."

"That's a lie." Draco said calmly, "You'll never protect _Harry Potter_. Every time you see him you're throwing him into danger, forcing him to be your greatest weapon in the war and he just follows you blindly because he respects you. Where's Harry now?" Draco's entire form shook dangerously, but he continued to stand strong. "I _know_ he's with you, otherwise he would be downstairs fighting with all of the Gryffindors and those Order members, Avada Kedavra!" Only a wisp of pathetic smoke came through Draco's wand.

"Harry?" Dumbledore repeated with surprise. His eyes widened considerably, and they flashed for an instant to where Harry was hidden under the Invisibility Cloak.

"Harry," Draco nodded, "everything _I've ever done_ is for Harry. _You_ claim that but you _know_ it's not true. _I'm_ the one with the Dark Mark, _I'm_ the one the Dark Lord tortured," he raised his wand. "I can't summon the hate for Avada Kedavra, but I'd be a pitiful killer if I didn't know other ways to kill you."

"Please, Draco, don't do this to yourself, you'll be hated by everyone, and you will never be able to be with Harry," Dumbledore pleaded with him, "it's not worth it."

Draco kept his wand level to Dumbledore. He thought for a moment, a spell which would kill Dumbledore coming to mind, "You like Mudbloods, don't you? Nothing more fitting then, it'll kill you right away, you won't have to suffer." Draco's eyes widened at his own words. His fingers clenched and relaxed on the wand, as if he was trying to find just the perfect place.

"I am so sorry, Draco," Dumbledore whispered.

Tears started falling down Draco's face, but he wiped them off with his sleeve. He refocused himself on Dumbledore, aiming his wand. His free hand clutched at his stomach. Draco took a deep breath, "Grangsirpia!"

A pale white light shot out of Draco's wand and hit Dumbledore square in the chest. He fell against the wall, leaning precariously over the edge. His body was lifeless. Something like mud trickled at the edge of his mouth, and his eyes, eyes which had twinkled with life, were dull and stared out blankly at nothing at all.

Draco stumbled backward, barely able to believe what he was seeing. Horror crossed his face. His knuckles clenched painfully white around Dumbledore's wand. "I... I killed him," he whispered, falling to the ground. Draco's wide gray eyes were locked on Dumbledore's empty form.

Noises and people appeared from the stairs, the first of them a large, tattooed Death Eater. The Death Eater immediately rushed to Dumbledore. "He's dead!" He announced to the others, turning to look at Draco with surprise.

"Dead?" Bellatrix Lestrange asked. She rushed into view, her hair as wild as ever, a burn mark adorning one cheek. She breathed in relief when she saw Draco alive on the floor. Her gaze turned to Dumbledore and then she hooted in glee. "Dumbledore is dead! My son killed him!" She pulled Draco into her arms.

Snape was next, and he observed the scene. Distraught, ill-hidden, he stared at Dumbledore. "Draco?" He turned in surprise, staring at him, eyes heavy with question.

"The Mud Blood Curse!" Bellatrix Lestrange laughed.

The tattooed Death Eater searched Dumbledore, a grin on his face. "Taken down by a sixteen year old," he mumbled. Turning back to the others, he said, "We have to go, there are too many Order members here, we've done what we came to do."

Bellatrix Lestrange pulled Draco up, forcing him to stand. "Come on," she told him, "I know it's a bit of a shock but you can do it."

Snape looked rather sick. "Draco killed Dumbledore?"

The tattooed Death Eater glared at him, "I know you worked for the man but this isn't time to be sensitive, brewer."

"I am not, Rudolphus. There are two brooms here, meaning Dumbledore wasn't alone when he came here, I want to be sure there's no one else here." Snape snapped.

"No one else," Draco lied, "Dumbledore was alone, he had two brooms because he was being careful." His eyes stared in fear at the Death Eaters around him. He was lying to them. Harry was somewhere nearby, but no matter what happened Draco was not giving Harry away.

Rudolphus Lestrange stared at Draco with open contempt, although he had some respect for the boy for who he had just killed. "Well," he turned to Dumbledore's body, with one finger he pushed him and the lifeless corpse tumbled over the edge, "let's get going."

1

Not Draco, not _his _Draco. Not Draco with the wide gray eyes and the pale skin. Not the Draco who had touched Harry so lovingly, who had whispered words of adoration, who held his daughter with tenderness written in every expression.

Draco Malfoy, a murderer.

Harry's heart ached. He should have _known_. Voldemort had promised Draco freedom if he'd killed Dumbledore, he'd promised to leave Vendetta alone. Why wouldn't Draco jump at the chance? His Draco Malfoy, _his_ Draco Malfoy turned into Voldemort's tool.

Draco Malfoy _had_ been Voldemort's chess piece, but Voldemort hadn't been playing to kill Harry, not when Dumbledore was still alive to oppose him. Voldemort had won. He'd killed Dumbledore, turned Draco into a murderer, and the pain Harry was feeling hurt worse than even Sirius' death. _Draco _had_ killed _Dumbledore_._

Harry felt the spell wearing as soon as Dumbledore had died, only seconds after Draco and the other Death Eaters left he threw off the Invisibility Cloak and jumped to his feet. Limping, he crossed the Astronomy Tower, but the limp was gone by the time he reached the stairs. He rushed down.

His hearting heart pounded in his chest as Harry ran as fast as he could. He had always been fast, only now he pushed his body to its limit. He _had _to reach Draco, before the Death Eaters took him away and before the… before the Aurors got to him. Harry barely saw the other signs of the fight, even Ginny who he ran by and Neville. A few people shouted at him, asking him what he was doing, but Harry didn't stop to speak.

Draco wouldn't be safe, not as Dumbledore's murderer. He couldn't stay with the Death Eaters; Harry would not let that happen. Not after what Narcissa had done to him when Draco was _pregnant_, not when Draco was set free. But Draco wasn't going to be safe with the Auror's either, or even with the Order of the Pheonix. Draco had _killed _Dumbledore, he loved _Harry Potter_. Draco wouldn't be safe _anywhere._

Faster than he had ever been before, Harry ran. He saw Rudolphus, last, ahead of him, and Harry shouted out the paralyzing hex. Rudolphus didn't have time to pull up a shield; he didn't know Harry was behind him. He was toying with Professor McGonagall when Harry's spell struck him in the back and he crumbled.

"Potter-" McGonagall had just said but Harry flew past her. She followed him, seeing by Harry's grim expression that something was very wrong.

Draco had to be safe, he had to. Harry had promised him he'd protect him. And Harry'd promised that before and he'd failed, he'd terribly and miserably failed. And Draco should have been safe when he'd gone back during the break, except Harry hadn't guessed how the bond between he and Voldemort worked. Voldemort probably saw flashes of Harry's life, just like Harry saw Voldemort's. But Harry wasn't going to let Draco go. He wasn't letting him go back. Harry was going to protect Draco this time, he _had _to protect Draco.

They were out of the doors. Harry was gaining on Snape and Bellatrix Lestrange. Draco was between the two, Snape gripping his elbow.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry shouted at Snape. Snape let go of Draco, sending a wordless curse at Harry.

Harry collapsed, his stomach stinging, but he shouted out a hex instinctively. Snape easily blocked him. Bellatrix Lestrange, pausing with the others, took a gleeful moment to light Hagrid's hut on fire, but she was through the gate quickly, away from Hogwart's wards, and she Apparated. "Sectumsempra!" Harry shouted.

"You _dare_ to use my own spells against me?" Snape yelled, "Potter, _I-_"

"Crucio!" Draco shouted behind him.

Snape had just enough time to jump out of the way of the hex. Breathing heavily, he glared at Draco. "Black hair, green eyes," Snape mumbled, staring for a moment at Harry, "Of course, _Potter._" Snape's lip curled at the revelation.

"Imperio!" Draco shouted.

Snape struggled to block the Unforgivable Curse, but he managed, glaring at Draco. "_This_ is where your loyalty is, Draco? Then _stay_ here!" He shouted a hex, forcing Draco to the ground. "You did your duty as you vowed to the Dark Lord, so run into Potter's _ungrateful_ arms!" His face screwed up in a sadistic humor, "You're a Death Eater, Draco Malfoy, through and through you are one of us, no matter how hard you may try."

He waited for a moment, looking for Rudolphus. No one came and Snape stopped hesitating. He backed out through the gate, following the others who had slipped through. Snape Apparated, disappearing into thin air.

Screams were heard from Hogwarts. The students who were panicking. Hagrid's hut was on fire, and Harry, with his a gasping breath, put it out. "Augamenti."

Despite everything, it was over.

Harry heard a sob, and he turned to Draco. He was hunched over, shaking. "Draco," Harry whispered.

"My... my mother... and Dumbledore..." Draco mumbled, trying to say something coherent. He didn't manage.

Harry had nothing to say. He pulled Draco to him without a word, holding him in his arms. Quietly, they sat there. They didn't have anything to say, they didn't know what to say. Draco had killed Dumbledore, but he'd set himself free. The black of his Dark Mark was fading to a dull gray already. Draco buried his head into Harry's shoulder, his form shaking like he was crying, but there were no tears. Harry pressed his lips against Draco's forehead.

Someone grabbed Harry's shoulder. "Hurry," Professor McGonagall said, "Dumbledore is dead, Hagrid's bringing the body inside, we need to get you somewhere safe." She forced Harry to his feet and her eyes fell on Draco.

Draco, miserable, looked back up at her. His sleeves were rolled back on his left arm, the Dark Mark, though fading, clearly visible against his pale skin.

"It _was_ you," Professor McGonagall breathed.

"Wait! It wasn't his fault!" Harry defended, "Draco didn't mean for any of this, he was only protecting-"

"I know about the baby girl in the hospital wing," Professor McGonagall interrupted. Disheveled, her entire form tense, she looked around Hogwarts with commanding eyes. "Mr. Malfoy, you need to come with me as well."

She led Harry and Draco into the castle, not pausing to speak to anyone. They made their way to the gargoyle outside the Headmaster's office. It was cracked open and Professor McGonagall didn't say a password as she guided them inside, her wand on Draco.

Kingsley, Lupin, and another member of the Order were there. Collapsed, in a corner, was Rudolphus Lestrange, the only Death Eater captured through the entire invasion.

With a start, Harry realized that Rudolphus Lestrange was the husband of Draco's mother.

"Expelliarmus," Professor McGonagall announced.

Draco's wand flew out of his pocket and Dumbledore's wand, clutched in his hand, did so as well, hissing through the air.

"Dumbledore's wand?" Professor McGonagall mumbled.

"Wait!" Harry said, "I can explain-"

"No need, Harry," Lupin stood. He was covered in tattered rags, a large bruise purpling on one of his eyes and he heavily favored his arm. Lupin glared at Draco, "we know who brought the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. There's no one here to help you, Mr. Malfoy, we have your daughter downstairs, and she'll be sent to your aunt, Andromeda Tonks."

"_What_?" Harry shouted. "Professor, Lupin, Draco was only trying to save her!"

"The punishment for murder is a life sentence in Azkaban, the punishment for use of the Unforgivable Curses is a life sentence in Azkaban, the punishment for bearing the Dark Mark is a life sentence in Azkaban, and the punishment for letting Death Eaters into a school, I am certain, is a life sentence in Azkaban," Lupin said. "Mr. Malfoy, if you struggle to cooperate with us we will use force against you."

"You're arresting me?" Draco asked dully. He crossed his arms, still shivering as if against the cold.

Kingsley nodded seriously. "Yes."

Professor McGonagall grabbed Harry's wrist. "I think it's best if we left," she started to say.

"No one is arresting Draco Malfoy!" Harry shouted. He clenched his hands into fists, his wand still ready in his right hand.

"Harry, I was under the impression that you did not like Mr. Malfoy, frankly, there is no other way to deal with the charges against him." Lupin tried to say comfortingly, but the hard gaze of battle hadn't left him, "I'm sure you had a trying night, I think you need to rest."

Draco was _not _leaving him. He was _not_ going to Azkaban, not with the memories of torture, not as a Death Eater. Harry was _not_ going to stand by and let this happen. He set his jaw, frowning at them. "Vendetta is _my_ daughter," Harry told them all.

Professor McGonagall choked. "_Yours_?" She'd known the two for six years. She'd been the first to give them detention, she'd been the first to shout at them for trying to kill each other. The shock she felt caused her to visibly step back, and she pressed her hand against her hard.

Harry took Draco's hand, entwining their fingers together. "Mine," and he glared at them all, daring them to take Draco away. If Harry had to, he was ready to fight.

Lupin noticed; he took the scene in stride. "This makes things more complicated." For a long time, Lupin just stared at them.

Overcome by impatience, Harry demanded, "_Well_?"

"We have to proceed carefully then," Kingsley said in his thick accent, folding his arms, "Mr. Malfoy needs to be taken into hiding, along with the girl."

McGonagall nodded. Her gaze slid questioningly over Draco, but she nodded. "The Tonks' are too obvious, they can't be sent there."

"If the Dursley's is safe enough for me, then it's safe enough for Draco," Harry said definitely. Draco moved closer to him, clutching Harry's robes.

"This is not up to you," Lupin told him.

"It most certainly is," Harry snapped, "he's _my_ family, they both are, and I am going to take care of them."

"With all due respect, Harry, you need to take care of yourself right now, with Dumbledore gone the Dark Lord is even stronger than ever." McGonagall ordered, "We need to protect you until we have a plan."

"_I_ already have one, Dumbledore entrusted it to me, and me alone." Harry said. He gripped Draco's hand strongly, reassuring him.

"The Dark Lord promised to leave me," Draco said quietly, "if I killed Dumbledore."

McGonagall scoffed. "Do you honestly trust You-Know-Who's word?"

Draco allowed a hint of a smile to cross his face. "I trust him more than the Minister of Magic; the Dark Lord always keeps his promises. He said he'd kill all the Muggles and he's well on his way too, he said he'd never die and he didn't."

_ Dumbledore for Draco_, Harry thought with a start, _Voldemort, he'd been manipulating this for a while. He thought Draco would tell me and then I would have to chose, Draco or Dumbledore. _Harry's free hand clenched, his eyes flashing.

_ If neither can live while the other survives, I will do all in my power to kill Voldemort._

_ Then Draco and I can have our life together._

…

**This is your review reminder. Review, pweez?**


	14. Chapter 14

** I'm getting to the end of what I've already written.**

** …**

** 'm scared. Review.**

**.**

Harry could do this. He swallowed. His throat was dry. Only a few weeks, a few weeks and then Draco and Vendetta would be transported to the Burrow. He would be sent later, at a more secure time.

Vernon Dursley continued leering at the two of them from over the meatloaf.

No one, yet, had said a word.

Petunia was frighteningly doing some sort of seasoning to some soup, which likely did not need anymore, but it was keeping her occupied, and Dudley was pretending to eat his mashed potatoes, which did not get to his pudgy lips. Dudley just kept mashing and mashing them in his fork, his face growing red as he tried to hold back either laughter or anger. Probably laughter.

In his head, Harry was praising Draco for the way he stared unabashedly back at Vernon Dursley and simply held Vendetta calmly in his hands. Perhaps Uncle Vernon could see that neither Harry nor the newcomer and the baby were going to make introductions, because he leaned back and coughed to say he was about to speak. Giving Draco an impressive glare, demanded, "What's all this then?"

The first words anyone had spoken since Harry had shown up at the door with Draco and his daughter. Three hours of silence broken.

Harry was about to answer when Draco snorted. "Not very polite, are they?" He said to Harry.

Harry's eyes widened. _Right._ He'd forgotten. Draco might be on the other side, he might agree that mass homicides were wrong, but he had never agreed that Muggles were equal to wizards. This was the worst combination. Harry swallowed again, his throat still parched. The Dursleys, the most prejudiced Muggles he knew, and Draco Malfoy, an extraordinarily prejudiced wizard.

Uncle Vernon's face grew red. "What?" He shouted.

"I thought Muggles were skinnier, and wore those... whatchamacallits, right? With the big hair?" Draco asked, looking at Harry. "Disco, or something?"

Of course, when would have been the last time the Malfoys bothered to update their information on Muggles? At least Draco knew what a car was? Harry froze. Draco _did_ know what a car was, didn't he?

Uncle Vernon raised an incredulous eyebrow, but Draco just shrugged. "I suppose all I know about Muggles is from the Prime Minister and Parliament," he continued.

"You met the Prime Minister?" Dudley asked curiously, he leaned his wobbly chin closer as if to inspect Draco from across the table.

Draco shifted Vendetta in his arms, making a point not to reply.

"Draco," Harry hissed, "not here."

"What?" Draco looked up, pretending to be innocent. Harry frowned at him, but Draco pretended not to see it.

"_Draco_ then?" Uncle Vernon's lip curled. "So you'll be one of those... _magic_ people, wouldn't you?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "You really should train your Muggles better," he informed Harry.

Harry's jaw dropped. "You don't _train Muggles_!" He protested.

With genuine curiosity, Draco looked at Harry blankly and wondered aloud, "Then what use are they?"

Uncle Vernon's face grew furiously red. "_EXCUSE_ ME?" He shouted.

"Draco," Harry tried to explain, "this is my uncle, that's my aunt, and that's my cousin."

"You're _related_ to these Muggles?" Draco stared at Dudley in distaste.

"My mother was Muggle-born." Harry cast a nervous glance at Aunt Petunia and Dudley, not even daring to look at Uncle Vernon, as he continued, "You did know that, didn't you?"

"I did," Draco nodded. He frowned. "So, these Muggles raised you?"

"Yes," Harry told him, "mostly in that cupboard." And Harry couldn't resist pointing it out.

Draco blinked. "We keep the elves and the ghost in the cupboards," he noted.

This, of course, sparked a terrified look in both Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. Aunt Petunia dropped the ladle into the coup bowl, along with the pepper, and Uncle Vernon just stood as still as if he'd been Petrified.

For the first time since Harry had known him, Dudley seemed curious. "_Elves_?" Dudley asked in surprise.

Draco continued to ignore him. "Why the cupboard?" He was purposely focusing his entire attention on Harry.

Uncle Vernon stood up, his impressive girth looming over Draco. For Draco, Harry was slightly frightened, but the pale sixteen-year-old barely seemed to notice the furious, huge man. "_I'm _not criticizing you about how you raise _your_ child," he growled.

Draco apparently could not resist a reply, "She wasn't raised in a cupboard like an elf."

"I wasn't..." Harry tried to explain, but his mind turned up blank.

"Elves do not exist!" Uncle Vernon exclaimed with absolute certainty.

Draco's jaw fell and he looked at Uncle Vernon with unparalleled confusion. Eventually, he reclaimed tongue, and asked, "You probably think vampires and werewolves don't exist either."

"They don't!"

Draco's expression was one of complete and utter shock. He probably had never experienced a world without magic, and, blind to his own ignorance, he smirked at Uncle Vernon's. "What about ghosts?"

"Absolutely not!"

Draco drawled with open contempt, "Or leprechauns?"

"Superstition!"

Mermaids?"

"DON'T EXIST!" Uncle Vernon's chest heaved in anger.

Draco turned to Harry. "Muggles _are _stupid," he said contemplatively, "you _are _joking that you're related to these people, are you?"

"WHAT did you say about my husband?" Aunt Petunia screeched.

"Oh, they marry? So they're not like _completely _uncivilized?" Draco asked Harry.

Harry dropped his head in his hands.

"WHO THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?" Uncle Vernon screamed, his face as red as his tie.

Draco lifted one eyebrow and said quite plainly, "Draco Malfoy, care to introduce yourself?"

Uncle Vernon continued, "WELL YOU, MR. MALFOY, HAD BETTER GET OUT OF MY HOME THIS INSTANT OR I'LL CALL THE POLICE!"

"I'll turn them into frogs," Draco countered.

Uncle Vernon halted.

"And then," Draco continued, "I'll send the frogs down your throat, and turn them back into policemen, and if they aren't enough for your gigantic stomach I'll take that son of yours and put him there too."

Uncle Vernon opened his mouth to speak. "WAIT!" Harry shouted. "Look," he said, when he noticed he had everyone's attention, "I know that the three of you don't like magic and Draco doesn't like those who aren't magical, but, please, it's only for a few weeks, we just have to be civil, and then we're gone, completely out of your lives."

"Swear?" Uncle Vernon asked through clenched teeth.

"I swear," Harry nodded.

Uncle Vernon sat down and stabbed the meatloaf, piling a huge portion onto his plate. Aunt Petunia determined the soup ready, forgetting the ladle and the pepper still inside, and she stuck her hands in mitts and put the pot down on the table. Dudley's mashed potatoes reached his mouth.

Draco looked at them in shock. "_This_ is your family, Harry?" He asked.

"Well," Harry said awkwardly, "I wouldn't call it... well I wouldn't call me part of it, but yes, I suppose."

"Everyone in _my_ family is a killer and _we're _cheerier to each other than this," Draco noted.

Dudley dropped his spoon. "What?" He asked, fascinated.

Uncle Vernon was speechless, but Aunt Petunia stood up, pulling herself as high as she could go. "What kind of a joke is this? You come into our house uninvited, with a baby, and start rambling on about magic and killers! Who are you?"

"Family," Draco replied.

Dudley snorted. "We're related to _you_?"

Draco brought the sleeping Vendetta close to his chest. "Of course, why else do you think I'm here? I'm-"

"I don't think now is the best time for this," Harry mumbled, placing his hand on Draco's shoulder to stop him. Draco glared at Harry furiously. "It's just," Harry continued, "perhaps we just not talk about this at all."

"She's _your_ daughter," Draco snapped.

"What?" Aunt Petunia asked quietly.

Dudley snorted into his mashed potatoes. "_Yours_ Harry? You banged a girl?"

Draco squared his shoulders angrily. "Absolutely not!" He shouted.

"_Please_," Harry begged.

"But-"

"_Please._"

Draco set his jaw and gave the three Dursley's the darkest look he could manage. He sat back in his seat, holding Vendetta. Apparently, with no small amount of effort, he turned his attention to the child he'd charmed to sleep.

"Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia... Dudley," Harry began. "You know Voldemort's back, I just have to stay here for a few weeks and then we'll be gone and you won't have to worry about magic again, you'll be sent off somewhere tropical until the war's over."

"We have to leave?" Uncle Vernon's jaw dropped.

"Oh, be concerned about _yourselves_," Draco drawled, "_my _mother's the Dark Lord's best torturer and even _she_ would never..." Draco trailed off, catching Harry's eye. Reluctantly, he bit his tongue, stopping himself from speaking.

"A torturer?" Dudley asked eagerly.

Aunt Petunia's brow furrowed. "Who exactly are you?" She asked Draco again.

Draco looked at Harry for a moment, and then answered her. "I already told you my bloody name," he snapped, "I'm a Death Eater, if you must know."

"One of Voldemort's servants!" Aunt Petunia stood up.

"Ex-Death Eater," Harry corrected, trying to smile and failing. "He's on our side now."

"But what's he doing here?" Aunt Petunia shouted.

"Well I'm not exactly leaving my daughter with him," Draco gestured to Harry.

Aunt Petunia froze.

"_Your_ daughter? But I thought you said she was Harry's," Dudley said.

Harry groaned and dropped his head against the table.

"I see why you told me not to say anything," Draco observed.

Harry groaned louder.

Uncle Vernon stood up to his impressive, full height, stepping back from the table for his enormous stomach and he wobbled dangerously, his face livid with anger. "Someone had better bloody explain this!" Uncle Vernon growled.

"Magic," Draco answered.

Uncle Vernon opened his mouth to argue, but closed it again. Leaning against his chair, he said, "That's a bloody good answer."

"It works for just about everything," Draco informed him.

"I still don't understand," Dudley mumbled.

"Well," Draco drawled, "I can tell from what little time I've known you that _that_ it isn't an unusual occurrence."

Dudley was speechless. Aunt Petunia answered, "That's no way to talk to _my_ family, we're sheltering you!"

"Are you going to keep us in the broom cupboard?" Draco asked maliciously.

No one had an answer to that, not even Harry.

"_Muggles_," Draco spat out like a curse.

.

Harry held Vendetta in his arms and watched Draco awkwardly. Draco, sitting down in a chair, tried to look out the window and not make in obvious that he was repeatedly staring back at Harry.

Vendetta's soft cries eventually quieted down, and Harry found it safe enough to comment, "Don't ever do that again."

Draco folded his arms. "He deserved it," Draco mumbled.

Harry sighed. If he had a free hand he would have pushed his hair out of his eyes, but he didn't dare take a hand off of Vendetta, even for a moment. "No one deserves to eat worms instead of spaghetti," Harry said slowly, "Nobody."

"Your uncle does," Draco snapped.

"Well _I_ say that he _doesn't_," Harry said as harshly as he could without waking Vendetta. "He's _my_ uncle, Draco. Where'd you even learn that anyway?"

"No one in Slytherin ever ate the spaghetti when the Weasley twins were in school," Draco stated for an answer.

"Ah," Harry understood. Shaking his head slightly, he continued, "It's been six hours since we arrived, and you've hexed my Aunt, my Uncle, my cousin, my cousin's dying fish, the fireplace, the stove, the telly, and the car."

"You forgot the cupboard," Draco added.

Harry frowned. "_Yes,_" he growled, "I did. Do I need to take your wand away from you?"

"You're not my mother." Draco looked out the window.

"No, I'm not your mother, I'm your..." Harry froze. "Er," he tried.

"Boyfriend," Draco offered.

"Boyfriend," Harry repeated. Then he paused and asked, "_Really_?"

Draco looked at him. "Yes, boyfriend, what else would I be?"

Harry hugged Vendetta closer to his chest. "I don't know," he mumbled to himself. "It's just," Harry said, "I figured, with her and... and all we've been through... we'd be _something_ less commonplace than _boyfriends_."

"We could be lovers," Draco offered.

Harry snorted. "No, absolutely not."

"Then there's nothing else, Harry," Draco answered. He shifted slightly in his chair. "Unless," Draco cleared his throat, "we could always get married."

"That would be nice." Harry nodded. He looked at Draco and smiled. "Definitely. As soon as possible. Vendetta can't grow up with her parents unmarried anyway."

"Exactly," Draco pointed out, "it would be bad for her mental health. I read a study about that." Draco, nonchalantly, said, "So, as soon as we're both eighteen."

Harry nodded. He sat down on the bed, turning his attention to Vendetta. Draco had charmed her to sleep, but had silenced Harry's room as soon as Harry'd managed to stop the approaching war by stuffing Draco inside. The charm had been removed, but she was still sleeping peacefully.

Harry had only ever held her in the dead of night, but he'd spent enough time with her to realize that sleep, for Vendetta, was rare. She was loud, she rarely laughed, and her big green eyes pleaded for everything in sight so that she could stick everything in her mouth, which seemed to be where she believed that every single item in the world, from hair to wands to feathers, belonged.

Draco despaired over her. He had been convinced that manners were inherited. But, as it was, she tugged painfully on his hair whenever he held her, she cried almost unceasingly when awake, and if she slept through the night it was to be determined a miracle, because it had yet to happen.

And she cried when she saw Harry. His _daughter_ cried at the sight of him.

True, he had been absent for almost her entire life, a thought that kept Harry from sleeping. He hadn't been there when she was born, or when Adam had died. He hadn't been there for her except at night, when she wasn't likely to see him. And then, once they'd been in the safe house for almost a whole month, waiting for the Order to finish perfecting their story of how Snape had killed Dumbledore, Harry had suddenly expected her to just get used to a stranger, _her father _a _stranger_, holding her and feeding her.

But it still hurt, whenever she cried. Because Draco would have been up for hours, pacing around in a circle to rock her back to sleep, and then Harry would wake up and she'd catch sight of him and she'd start to wail, and then Draco would look at Harry with complete disdain, likely brought about by several sleepless nights in a row, and say "_Really_, Harry?" in that ever present, arrogant drawl.

Harry hoped she got used to him soon. Draco was having a hard time being the only one able to comfort her and Harry was having a hard time feeling continuously detached from his daughter.

"When do those Muggles leave?" Draco asked. He was looking at Vendetta like she was a bomb about to go off.

And she probably was, because Harry was holding her and she was asleep. The moment she woke up and opened her beautiful green eyes, the same as Harry's and the same as her grandmother's, she'd start to wail.

Draco sat down carefully on the bed, still looking at Vendetta. But he curled his legs behind him, and, lying down, lay his head against Harry's thigh. "I don't like being here, around all this…" Draco searched for a word, and then continued, disgruntled, "this _Muggle_-ness."

Harry chuckled. "Muggle-ness?" He repeated.

Draco looked up, frowning. "Yes," he said, "Muggles are weird. I am not a Muggle. This entire place is weird. I am not raising my daughter as a Muggle, Harry."

"No, we're not raising her as a Muggle. Can you imagine being a Muggle child with the name 'Vendetta'?" Harry laughed softly, trying not to wake her.

"'S symbolic," Draco mumbled against Harry's thigh. He closed his eyes, the lateness of the hour and the lack of sleep wearing on him.

Harry smiled down at him. He was still angry that Draco had acted like an arse, but so had the Dursleys, and everything they'd all done had been in retaliation so it wasn't entirely sure where it had started. Besides, it had been the first time in forever that Draco had acted normal. Although, normal for Draco, as Harry'd known him, was a either a complete prat or a quiet, shy, I-was-just-tortured-and-I'm-frightened-to-death sort of an emotion.

Normal was overrated. Harry might as well accept that. He was a wizard. And not only was he a wizard, he was the 'Chosen One'. And not only was he the 'Chosen One', he was gay. And not only was he gay, he had literally slept with the enemy. And not only had he slept with the enemy, he had a daughter with said enemy. So, really, Harry wasn't entirely sure he'd ever been normal.

Ten minutes later, Vendetta had woken up and, true to form, had started to cry. Draco had reluctantly taken her out of Harry's hands and stood up to rock her.

"Sorry," Harry apologized, to both of them.

"Shut up, there's nothing to be sorry for, you ridiculous Gryffindor," Draco grumbled.

…

Review for my sanity pweez


	15. Chapter 15

**Hi... yeah... I guess I'm still alive.**

* * *

><p>Even enlarged, Harry's bed barely covered the two of them, and his room was very small considering the small wooden crib that lay on the other side. Far after midnight that night, Draco shifted. Harry had been lying, awake, staring at the ceiling. He hadn't been able to fall asleep, but Draco hadn't either. Draco looked up, and Harry's eyes met his.<p>

There was the intense look in Draco's eyes that said he'd been thinking. As of late, that look had never followed good conversation.

"What?" Harry asked him in a voice soft enough for the late hour.

But when Draco spoke, it was definitely nothing Harry had expected. "What do you," Draco asked, "want to be? When we're older?"

Harry frowned. "As in job?"

Draco nodded. He moved his body slightly forward, tucking his head against Harry's collar, his white blond hair tickling Harry's cheek. "Just, when we're older."

Harry thought for a moment, his gaze returning to the ceiling. "'M not sure," Harry realized quietly. "Not long ago I would have said," Harry chuckled softly. "I would have said that all I wanted was to be a dad."

Draco wrapped his arm around Harry's shoulders. "Congratulations," he mumbled in the dark.

"I don't know," Harry said, casting a glance over to Vendetta to make sure she wasn't waking. "I just want to be alive when this war is over."

"Neither can live while the other survives," Draco repeated. He'd memorized the prophecy, after Harry had told it to him, and more than once Harry had seen him pondering the words, trying to decipher them. It was another burden off Harry's mind, leaving the task of understanding the prophecy to Draco. Lately his head had been crowded with far too many things. His daughter, Adam's death, the prophecy, Draco's freedom, Dumbledore's murder.

"Yeah, that," Harry whispered, not too sure what he was saying.

"Granger will take care of her," Draco told Harry, "if we don't make it. And then, if worst comes to worst, the Tonks can have her. But, if almost everyone dies, I might relent to giving her to a nice half-blood family." He paused, and then added, "But if all the Muggles and half-bloods are dead, I suppose the Weasleys might work."

Harry chuckled. He wrapped his arms around Draco, pulling him closer so he could mumble into the Slytherin's ear. "You," he said, grinning, "are racist."

"It's not race I'm worried about, _Potter_, it's blood," Draco reminded him.

"Then you're _prejudiced_," Harry corrected.

"Very," Draco agreed, nodding.

Harry leaned slightly forward, holding Draco tighter. "I'm going to tickle you now," Harry told Draco darkly.

Draco's eyes widened in fear. "Don't," he ordered.

Harry grinned, pouncing on him.

Five minutes later, in response to the noise they were making, Vendetta woke up.

"You're fault," a disheveled Draco Malfoy growled.

Harry shrugged, allowing for the blame. "I'll get her," he tried, swinging his feet off the bed.

Draco stared at him. "Er," he said nervously, "it might be better if I did."

Harry looked at him and then sighed, lying back down in the bed.

Draco stood up, going to the wooden crib. He picked up Vendetta swiftly, hugging her against his chest to try and stop her cries. "I'm sure she'll warm up to you soon," he offered.

Harry frowned at his daughter grumpily. "Sure," he said in monotone.

Draco was gently rocking her, and her cries were fading. "Hush, 'Detta," he whispered. Then he looked back at Harry. "She's really not used to many people, just me, she's probably just missing Madam Pomfrey," Draco told him.

Harry snorted. "Right," he looked at the wall. "So I need to take Polyjuice to be Madam Pomfrey to get my daughter to stop screaming at the sight of me," he growled.

"Harry, please, if she's like me she should settle for your Quidditch uniform," Draco teased.

Harry lifted an eyebrow. "Oh?" He pressed.

Draco smirked at him. "Don't pretend like you don't either," he continued with a wicked grin, "the first time you kissed me was after our Seeker's Duel, and I was wearing my Slytherin uniform."

Harry blushed. "Er…?"

Vendetta was sufficiently calmed now, except she was awake and now, like always, was gleefully enjoying the gentle rhythm of Draco rocking her. She reached out with a soft, pudgy hand, grasping onto the edge of Draco's shirt, trying to pull the fabric into her mouth. "None of that," Draco ordered, grasping the shirt out of her reach. She started to whimper and Draco sighed in despair. He glared at Harry, "We are _not _having anymore," Draco insisted.

Harry smiled. "Can you imagine two children," he said without thinking.

They both thought of it at the same time.

"Oh," Harry whispered so quietly it was inaudible.

"Yeah," Draco muttered, looking at Vendetta. He pulled one of her white blonde hairs away from her eyes. "'Would'a been hard," he said softly.

"We could have managed," Harry tried to assure him.

"Black hair and gray eyes," Draco remembered, "and I'm certain he had your father's nose."

Harry looked at Vendetta in Draco's arms. There was something they had rehearsed, said a million times, a million different ways, but all the same, and now he started it. "She's got your hair."

"Your eyes," Draco told him, staring at the wide, stunning green eyes looking up at him.

"Your mum's nose," Harry added.

"Poor girl," Draco clicked his tongue lovingly. "Your mum's mouth."

"But where on earth did those ears come from," Harry asked.

"Malfoy ears," Draco insisted.

"Potter's hands," Harry offered.

Draco nodded, grateful for Harry's retreat from the painful subject to the living one. It was over, their little rehearsed conversation. He smiled. "She's going to be gorgeous when she grows up," Draco told Harry. "Just completely gorgeous."

"She already is," Harry said in awe, looking at Vendetta from his position on the bed.

"Definitely a Slytherin," Draco teased.

Harry shook his head wildly. "No," he insisted, "_absolutely_ not. She's a Gryffindor, like her dad."

"But look at those eyes, she's clever, you can just see it," Draco said, "She can't be stuck in Gryffindor."

"But the way she crawls around, at six months," Harry pointed out, "adventurous and brave, a born Gryffindor."

"I did not give birth to a Gryffindor in the Dark Lord's fortress, Harry. And what if she's inherited your Parseltongue?" Draco brushed imaginary hairs out of Vendetta's eyes, still rocking her, and her long, blonde eyelashes began to waver.

"So? I'm not in Slytherin," Harry reminded Draco.

"Yes, but you're the exception, Harry. But don't worry, she'll be a star Seeker, beating the Gryffindor Quidditch team every game," Draco offered.

Harry shook his head. "Maybe she'll be Ravenclaw and we won't have to worry."

"If she's a Hufflepuff she's disinherited," Draco said seriously.

Harry stared at Draco, his eyes widening, but a quick look assured him that Draco was joking. "There's nothing wrong with Hufflepuffs," Harry told him.

"_Exactly_," Draco pointed out, "they're Hufflepuffs. They don't _do_ anything. They're boring. They have maybe one party a year, they get mediocre grades, they never do anything exceptional, and they're just _there_. Vendetta is much too important to be a _Hufflepuff_. She's Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy's daughter, she was born in the Dark Lord's fortress, she was crawling at five months old, so there is no way she's a mundane Hufflepuff." Draco snorted, as if he was offended by the very notion.

"What about Ravenclaw?" Harry asked.

Draco shrugged. "Ravenclaw's fine. They're clever. I have a genius IQ, she could have inherited it. And the Ravenclaw Quidditch team has won almost as much as the Slytherin team."

Harry blinked. "As in, in history?"

"Slytherin's won the most, because they have good strategy and bend the rules occasionally. Ravenclaw's next because they have normally incredible strategy, but they're sticklers for the rules, even rules that haven't been enforced since the eighteenth century. The Gryffindor, of course, because they normally have good players but, frankly, they never play as a _team,_ although they're more than willing to bravely grab a bludger in midplay. And the Hufflepuff team, another reason Vendetta is not a Hufflepuff, has won barely a hundred times in the almost a thousand years of Hogwarts history," Draco recalled from memory. Harry was staring at him, obviously impressed, but Draco shrugged. "It's in Hogwarts: A History."

Harry sighed. "I need to read that sometime, Hermione's always quoting from it."

"It's a good read. Lots of blood and battles, a few romances, you wouldn't expect a history book about a _school_ to be so interesting, but the person who wrote it included only the important things, like which teachers were murdered, which students became famous, and all that," Draco advised, "You should read it."

Harry nodded. "I will, we have a lot of time here," he remembered, "at least the Dursleys will be leaving in a week."

"The sooner gone the better," Draco insisted.

Harry frowned. "Really? Can you at least _pretend_ to be more civil to them?"

Draco looked away from Harry, focusing completely on Vendetta. "Perhaps," he muttered.

"But you won't, will you?" Harry realized helplessly.

Draco smirked darkly.

* * *

><p>Draco took a deep breath before going down to breakfast. He held Vendetta cautiously in his hands, tensing as if he was about to set foot on a battlefield.<p>

But considering the way the Dursley household had been the last three days, 'battlefield' wasn't short of the truth.

Uncle Vernon looked down on Harry and Draco like they were rotten sick, did his best to make sure their time was as inhospitable as possible, and, which Draco considered the worst crime, openly insulted Vendetta. Aunt Petunia resorted to an old tactic, and did her best to forget that Draco, Harry, or the six-month year old existed. Her eyes seemed to skim over them, she didn't set out plates for them, and she barely said a word in their presence. Dudley, however, constantly grilled Draco about his family, asking repeatedly if they'd _really_ killed anyone and how did his mum torture people and had _Draco_ ever killed anyone? Dudley did cool down for a while when Draco, pushed beyond what he could stand, snapped and shouted, "YES, I _have_ killed before!" But he bounced back quickly.

In return, magical things started happening everywhere. Random objects would suddenly fly, tea pots, containing hot tea, would inexcusably crack in Uncle Vernon's direction, the Durselys began to trip on the stairs, the cupboard under the stairs had a habit of opening, pulling someone inside, and then locking, and, an act of complete horror for Vernon and Petunia Dursley, the grass of the house had turned an inexcusable, unhealthy, not-matching-with-the-neighbor's-lawn, _orange_.

Harry tried very hard to play the mediator, but he couldn't protect the Dursleys from the anger of the very prejudiced, very proud, Draco Malfoy. And Draco had the very easy ability to completely distract Harry whenever Harry tried to tell him to stop, because the room had silencing charms and the bed was cozy and there were no classes tomorrow and Vendetta was asleep and they loved each other and when was the last time and Draco would whisper the words of the prevention spell and push Harry between his legs and then any anger he had was gone. Harry knew Draco was manipulating him, but it was impossible for him not to give in when Draco pouted at him, or snogged him senseless, or had abandoned all modesty and was standing in the middle of the room naked telling Harry that Vendetta was asleep and so they had _plenty_ of time. Draco really was a Slytherin, through and through, and Harry loved him, but it didn't stop him from getting mad at him. Draco _had_ noticed which was what sparked a conversation, one hot day near the end of their stay.

"I'm not good for you," Draco said suddenly. They had been lying on the bed, barely dressed to combat the heat of midday, and Vendetta was playing with a stuffed owl in her crib while Hedwig slept beneath her. It was a happy, quiet sort of moment, which was why Draco's comment seemed so out of place.

"What?" Harry looked up. "You're good for me, why would you say that?"

Draco turned onto his side, his gray eyes deep in thought. "_We're_ not good for each other, honestly. We bring out the worst in each other," he noted.

Harry shook his head. "That's not true."

Draco snorted. "Come on," he said, resorting to his drawl, "since the time we started dating you kissed another girl, got me pregnant at fifteen, was then _flirting_ with the same girl-"

"I _never_ flirted with Cho," Harry insisted.

Draco rolled his eyes. "You were talking to her all the time and she kept _touching_ you and you let her."

"She just wanted to apologize about Marietta," Harry told him, "she wasn't…" Harry paused.

"She wanted to apologize six times a day?" Draco stressed.

"Oh," Harry realized, "I had no idea…"

"_And_ you accused me first of being Umbridge's spy and then the Dark Lord's," Draco added.

Harry winced. "Er… yeah."

"Through miscommunication you don't even know that I'm _pregnant_, I was marked as a Death Eater so I had to serve the Dark Lord which ended up almost killing me, and then I'm a murderer and an ex-Death Eater and you, who should be concentrating on saving the entire wizarding race, you are instead concentrating on building up some weird lie that Severus Snape killed Albus Dumbledore and making sure I'm not wanted by the ministry." Draco crossed his arms, then decided it was too hot for that and let them rest at his sides.

Harry paused, searching for something to say. Eventually, he managed, "I suppose there is _that_."

"That's not just a 'that', Harry, that's evidence," Draco pointed out.

Harry shrugged. "But I am me, and everything bad that ever happens happens to me, and because I love you that probably means you inherited my Murphy's Law curse or something," he reasoned.

Draco blinked. "Murphy's Law?"

"'Anything that can go wrong, _will_ go wrong'," Harry quoted.

"Ah," Draco said, "so perhaps you're bad for my health. Maybe I should marry Astoria after all."

Harry frowned. "Who?"

Draco dismissed her with a wave of his hand. "She's a girl, from a French wizarding family; our parents always wanted us to marry. That's obviously not going to happen now."

"Good, if you leave me I swear I'll murder you," Harry insisted.

"See, another example," Draco teased.

Harry leaned his head against Draco's shoulder. "Sure," Harry agreed. Then he pointed over to their daughter. "But there's contrary evidence." She currently had a corner of the owl's wing in her mouth and was hugging the rest of it, squeezing repeatedly on a certain part that made a tiny hooting noise. Every time the owl went 'ooo oo', Hedwig would perk up and then Vendetta would giggle.

"That's powerful contrary evidence," Draco admitted. He stood up with a sigh. "'Detta, please stop trying to eat the stuffed bird," he pleaded as he walked over to her. He tugged the bird out of her mouth, trying to find her bottle so she could suck on it, but Vendetta started to whimper.

Harry stood up. "Maybe I should help?" He asked.

"Have you seen her bottle?" Draco asked, he was trying to hold the owl's wing out of the reach of Vendetta's mouth and search the room for the bottle at the same time.

"Didn't she just eat?"

"I'll give it to her empty, its just something she can put in her mouth without me worrying she'll swallow some giant piece of fuzz or metal piece and then start to choke and turn all blue and she won't be able to breath and then I wouldn't know what to do and-"

"I found it," Harry announced before Draco could finish.

"Thank you, Harry," Draco said. When he leaned forward to take the bottle, however, Vendetta caught sight of Harry. But at least she hesitated a moment before launching into a wail. It was some sort of improvement.

* * *

><p>Draco stayed upstairs when the Dursleys said their goodbyes, but Petunia Dursley stopped on her way out. On purpose. To see him. She knocked on the door and Draco opened it.<p>

Her tall, thin person was hunched over, and her eyes were bright with unshed tears. It was to be expected, she was leaving her home. But she stared at Draco.

"Yes?" He demanded.

"We'll get along eventually," Petunia Dursley said in a halting voice, "you'll visit, won't you? You and my nephew and that little girl?"

"Of course," Draco nodded, "family is family, even if we hate each other." _Or are on opposing sides of the war_, he thought.

She nodded. "Christmas then?"

"After the war," Draco promised. He paused suddenly, his face haunted. His voice cold, but his eyes fearful, he added, "If we get through it."

Petunia Dursley gave him a shaky smile. "If we do as well, right? I'm not blind, this war is genocide against those of us without magic, like my family, and because we're relatives of Harry we're even more in danger."

Draco sighed. "Yes," he admitted, "you are. But on the plus side, you don't look a thing like Harry. I can hardly believe you're related at all."

Petunia Dursley drew herself up to her full height. "Well, I suppose we have that," she said, "and I'll hold you to your promise. I've never had a little girl to shop for."

"I trust that you'll spoil her impeccably," Draco said seriously, fully believing that was a good thing.

"I hope I'll be given the chance," Petunia Dursley said. Curious, she asked, "If you and Harry don't make it, what'll happen to her?"

"I have relatives. I've never met them, but I've heard they're wonderful, which is probably a given considering they were kicked out of my family," Draco shrugged. "My family has never been the best."

"Harry will do a good job with her," Petunia Dursley indicated toward Vendetta, "he's a good boy, despite it all."

Draco nodded. And then she left.

…

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><p><strong>Review!<strong>


	16. Chapter 16

Three days after the Dursleys had left, four days before Draco was scheduled to leave, a miracle occurred. Vendetta had been crying over some toy that had fallen out of her reach, and Harry, without thinking, picked her up to comfort her. And Vendetta had stopped crying.

And Vendetta never cried when she saw Harry again. In fact, she seemed to seek him out when she began to cry. It might have had something to do with her eventually realizing that Harry's sweet murmurs and endearing tones were much more comforting than Draco's "Now, be quiet, or I swear I'll take away that stupid owl". She still cried when Harry tried to hold her when he wasn't wearing his glasses, apparently she wasn't able to recognize him without them, but Harry was overjoyed at the change. The burdens of the war seemed to lift from his shoulders for hours at a time, and Draco, who had previously been charged with the task of being the only one to care for Vendetta, found his chores eased and discovered the newfound ability to, when Vendetta started crying in the night, nudge Harry in the ribs and force the Gryffindor to get up instead.

Life was remarkably pleasant after that, but the small vacation from the war was over much too quickly.

The day before Draco had to leave; he and Harry were curled up in each others arms on the couch. On the floor, wrapped comfortingly in a blanket, Vendetta continuously tried to eat her favorite owl toy and Draco, with a detached motion, pulled the toy out of her mouth. They were both watching her, silent, reveling in the peace they had.

"I don't know how long it will be before I see the two of you again," Harry said in a small voice. His face was sad, his lips curled into a frown, and he seemed to stare past Vendetta as he looked at her.

"The Weasleys will never let you miss that wedding," Draco assured Harry, his free hand caressing the curve of Harry's cheek, "you'll see us in less than a fortnight." Then Draco shivered. "Augh," he growled, "Weasleys having little Weasleys, before you know it those twins will marry, and that Weasley girl, and the one that works for the ministry, and then Hermione and Weasley'll tie the knot and the entire world will be overrun in little red headed half-blood, _freckled_ _Weasleys_."

Harry started. "Ron and Hermione?" He shouted.

Vendetta dropped the owl and began to cry. Draco glared at him. "_Potter_," he snapped, the word he only used whenever he was feeling particularly spiteful, "did you have to?"

"I've got her," Harry mumbled. He reached down for Vendetta and she held out her hands for him. Gathering her up in his arms, he sat back down on the couch and Draco curled against him, resting his chin on Harry's shoulder. Gentle rocking motions soon had Vendetta pacified enough that she began to moan for her owl, which Draco gave to her and she proceeded to wrap her arms around and try to eat.

"I can't believe you didn't notice that, the two of them have been awkwardly and dorkishly pining away for each other since you and Weasley apparently saved her from a troll," Draco informed Harry nonchalantly. "And its better than them following in our footsteps, I couldn't manage any of _my _friends with any of _yours_."

Harry thought for a moment, wrinkling his nose at a particularly disgusting image of Goyle and Ron, and then agreed, "Definitely not. That should be banned."

"It was banned, for a time," Draco told Harry. He lazily tickled Vendetta's arm, and she pursed her lips in an expression that was so very Draco-like that Harry stared. "A Slytherin Minister of Magic, when the position was called 'Lord of Magic', banned Slytherin and Gryffindor relationships when he learned his daughter was going to elope with a Gryffindor."

"Let me guess, 'Hogwarts: A History'?"

Draco laughed softly. "Yeah."

Vendetta curled up closer in Harry's arms and he tightened his hold on her, making sure her soft, messy, white blonde head was snug. She blinked her wide green eyes at the two of them and Harry smiled broadly. "She is just…" he struggled for words.

Draco nodded. "I know," he told Harry quietly.

Harry's grin faded. "What will we do when I go to search for the Horcruxes?"

Draco looked up at Harry. "I was…" He bit his lip suddenly. A painful expression crossed Draco's face, but he forced himself to say, "I was going to ask Mrs. Weasley to care for Detta."

Harry's grin returned, mock shock crossing his face. "Oh?" He teased, "A _Weasley_?"

"We'll knock off the Dark Lord by December," Draco said sternly, "and we'll have sixteen years to make up for five months of being traumatized."

Harry snorted, happily, and pressed his lips against the top of Draco's head.

* * *

><p>Remus Lupin came to get him, and because Draco was older than Harry, the Trace was already gone from him. Vendetta had never even been registered for the Trace, so they didn't have to worry. Draco gave Harry a swift kiss, during which Lupin tried to look anywhere else, and then Apparated.<p>

* * *

><p>Draco held Vendetta tightly in his arms as he prepared to walk up the steps to the Weasley home. Lupin was holding Draco's two bags, one for Vendetta and one for him, because Draco had only his school things with him when he'd left the Death Eaters and had not had time to get new things from Malfoy Manor. Otherwise there would have been a <em>lot<em> more luggage. But there wasn't, because Draco had nothing except a few bags and the child in his arms.

The Weasley home was just like Draco had expected it to be, pulled together by magic, rag tag, and probably garnished with love or something else that disgusting. Where Malfoy Manor would be rich, imposing, and strong, filled with family history, the Weasley home was poor, quaint, cozy, and looked like someone had waved a wand and made it five minutes ago. Eying a new looking wing on the top, Draco wondered if it had been.

"You alright?" Lupin was asking Draco, looking at him with a concerned expression on his ragged face.

Draco nodded. "Just a bit nauseous," he said quietly. Vendetta whimpered in his arms, and he adjusted her position in his arms to make her more comfortable. Draco took a deep breath. _You've been living with _Muggles, _you can deal with Weasleys,_ Draco thought. He couldn't help remembering what he'd told Harry, and felt sick at the thought of entering the decrepit building with Vendetta in hand and leaving without her. Vendetta reached up to Draco's hair, trying to pull the white blond out of its perfect, slicked back position, and he took her hand and pushed it away.

Stepping slowly forward, Draco frowned at the building. Arthur Weasley and Lucius Malfoy had hated each other for years, and so Narcissa Malfoy hated Molly Weasley, and Draco Malfoy hated all the Weasley children. Arthur Weasley was probably disgusted by the thought of keeping Draco in his home, but he must have no other choice. The Order would have forced it on him. The Weasleys liked Harry though; Harry had even mentioned something about them caring for him like a son, so they might not hate Draco too much for Harry's sake.

Fred and George Weasley would be there. Draco grimaced at the thought. He could just hear their idiotic jokes and their stupid pranks and see those aggravating, red headed, freckled faces laughing at him. Draco Malfoy buggered by Harry Potter. Now _that_would be good material for any number of jokes.

And then Ron Weasley, who Draco had not yet managed to like despite Harry and Hermione's insistence that the two of them eventually get along. But he was _Ron Weasley_, Harry was asking far too much.

Ugh. And then the girl Weasley. She'd had eyes for Harry since the moment she came to Hogwarts. She even sent him one of Lockhart's stupid valentines. And considering the family's apparent lack of ability to rein back children, and Harry's disgusting inability to notice when girls were flirting with him, Draco would probably have to use all of his abilities to keep Harry from accidentally stumbling into an affair with her.

And then there were the Weasley's Draco had never met. William Weasley, who would likely be enormously upset that a Malfoy would be attending his wedding. And of course, there was that Perseus Weasley who worked for the Ministry. He'd probably be trying to send Draco to Azkaban. And Charles Weasley, a dragon hunter or something horribly frightening like that.

But then there was _Molly_ Weasley. And despite everything Harry had told him about her being wonderful, and nice, and making good food, she was most likely to be a terror. Mrs. Weasley, a floozy, some fat lady who Draco had only once seen in passing at a bookstore. She'd either bother Draco constantly about Vendetta or either completely ignore them, and Draco definitely wanted to completely ignore her. With so many children she probably had some weird child complex and she'd likely be very disappointed that Draco had taken Harry instead of her own daughter. And she only had one daughter and Vendetta was a girl and a very pretty girl and _dear Merlin_ Draco would be leaving his daughter with her until the end of the war and who knew how long that would be? Vendetta Malfoy would become a _Weasley_. A gross little baby Weasley used to second hand things and rolling in the dirt and far too many siblings for a person's health.

Draco swallowed. This was going to be horrible.

"Are you alright?" Lupin asked him.

"What?" Draco turned.

"You've been standing in front of the door. You sort of need to open it, I have my hands full," Lupin reminded Draco.

"Oh, right," Draco said. He nodded twice, still looking at the door. He held Vendetta so tight that she yelped.

Lupin looked at Draco in confusion, then at the Weasley home, and back at Draco. He laughed. "You're not nervous, are you?"

Draco narrowed his eyes. "No," he growled.

"You have nothing to be nervous about," Lupin told him. "Trust me, they're good people."

"Heh," Draco said unintelligibly. He frowned, and then invented, "It's hard to open a door without tipping her. She cries. All the time."

"Then let me," Lupin set down one of the bags. Without waiting for Draco, whose heart had begun pounding in nervousness, he swung open one of the doors, took the bag again in hand, and lumbered inside.

The door swung behind him, almost shut, and Draco leaned forward to look through the crack at beyond. Lupin was exchanging some words with one of the people there, probably an inspection, but then the person gave a hearty laugh and gave Lupin a huge hug, and she looked at the door. Molly Weasley herself.

Draco felt the blood drain from his face, and his hands shook. When had he become this? At what point did he abandon the path that had been laid before him from childhood and consort with blood traitors?

Ah, yes, the fourth of March.

Cursed, wonderful, day.

Molly Weasley made her way to the door and Draco took three steps back. Harry Potter was most assuredly bad for his health, he concluded as the door swung open.

Molly Weasley wasn't as fat as Draco had thought she was, and her face was very pretty. She had nice hair that she apparently didn't take much time on, and her clothes were covered in flour and food stains in such a pattern that she looked like she'd only just taken off her apron. "Come on in, it's a chilly night for the season," Molly Weasley said, gesturing inside.

Draco gave her a short, sharp nod. And he stepped forward. Toward the house. The Weasley house. Where he was going to stay. And leave his daughter.

Molly Weasley was saying something to someone inside, and she stepped out of the way to let Draco in. Draco paused at the threshold. Taking a deep breath, he stared at his feet and Vendetta let out a single cry to convey to him that Draco was either going to walk or rock her, he couldn't just stand there.

At her cry, Molly Weasley turned around. "Draco?" She asked.

Draco frowned. That was _his_ first name; he'd never given _her_ permission to use it. A small, sane part of his brain sarcastically asked whether a grown woman was going to call him 'Mr. Malfoy', and then Draco just felt tired. "Sorry," he mumbled.

His foot slowly stepped over the threshold into the home. The other foot followed. And then Draco was inside. Draco let out a breath he'd been holding.

Molly Weasley had a kind look in her eyes as she smiled at him. "You can help Lupin bring your things upstairs, I can hold her." And she stretched out her arms.

Draco stared. She was _telling_, not asking, him to _perform manual labor_ and then she _wanted his daughter_? Was Vendetta collateral? Was this some weird prank? Draco stepped back into the wall. He should most certainly _not _have come here and he _definitely _wasn't staying. Draco had four friends whom he was reasonably certain would be happy to house him temporarily, and Pansy would probably love to play dress up with Vendetta or put mascara on her long blonde eyelashes, and even though the thought was gross at least she wasn't a _Weasley_. Draco swallowed hard, wondering how far away Pansy was from here until he remembered her family went on vacations in the summer. She was likely in South America.

"Are you alright?" Molly Weasley stepped forward.

All at once there was a loud crashing noise from the stairs that seemed to indicate several people coming down at once with apparently no idea that they weren't a stampeding herd of hippogriffs.

Molly Weasley suddenly gave Draco a very kind smile. "Don't worry, there's a bed for you upstairs and I have Ginny's old crib there too. We're a bit crowded, but I was able to enlarge some rooms, and you're just rooming with Ron and Harry." She stepped forward, nodding at him. "You have nothing to worry about."

"I'm not worried!" Draco snapped at her.

Molly Weasley took it in stride. "I've got some fresh bread in the oven; lunch is in an hour; should I call down Ron to carry your things to his room?"

Draco felt slightly better at the thought of Ron Weasley carrying his things, and so he agreed. And it was better when he was sitting down on a rather comfy chair, although it did smell odd, and Molly Weasley was fumbling around in the kitchen with the dexterity of a house elf, which was the closest to normality that Draco had had for a long time. It did lift his mood when he heard Ron Weasley cursing all the way up the stairs about stuck up Malfoy's and bewitched best friends.

Insultingly, Vendetta seemed to enjoy the noise better than she had the quiet of number four, Privet Drive, and was settled down quietly in Draco's arms. Some of Draco's fears were quieted, although he still wasn't too sure about Molly Weasley.

Lupin came down the stairs and began to help Molly Weasley in the kitchen, which meant he got in the way while he tried to make himself a cup of tea and eventually she gave two to him and sent him off to sit with Draco in the parlor-ish room. "Not so bad?" Lupin asked as he set Draco's tea on the coffee table. But he felt the need to ruin Draco's slight hope and add, "Of course, almost all of the kids are at some impromptu Quidditch game, and Arthur isn't home yet, but they should be back in a few minutes or so for lunch."

Draco felt the urgent need to hit or insult something, but he forced it down. He couldn't entirely trust that he wouldn't use a word he didn't want Vendetta to hear. So he just nodded.

"How were the Dursleys?" Lupin asked after a long pause, to make conversation. Draco shrugged and didn't answer.

Molly Weasley came to the parlor-ish room then, and sat down on one of the numerous couches. "So, Draco," she said, and then stopped when she realized she had nothing to follow it with. She floundered around for something to say to the son of her husband's worst enemy, and then managed, "She's a pretty girl. What's her name?"

It took a moment for Draco to reply and in that time he managed to at least gather back some of his pride. "Her name is Vendetta."

Molly Weasley frowned. "Vendetta?" She repeated, confused.

"It… uh…" It was Draco's turn to be lost, but he managed, "it was something I said to the Dark Lord, it's not a family name or anything, but…"

"Well, that's nice, isn't it?" Molly Weasley said to nobody in particular. Then she tapped away a rhythm on her knees and they all tried to pretend this moment wasn't awkward.


End file.
